Prelude
by wolfmirror102
Summary: The story of how Voldemort met Bellatrix and the tale of how he created a monster.
1. Chapter 1

He was twenty five years older. She was just a child. He had mutilated himself. She was pure.  
Nevertheless, as he gazed at her snow white skin over the dinner table, he could not help but feel roused by the eighteen year old girl. Her sleek dark hair rippled down her back as she sat, glum faced, staring at her fork which she had stabbed into a carrot.  
He cleared his throat, his unnaturally long fingered hands grasping his own cutlery as he ate with the Black Family. Cygnus, the girl's father, was talking about politics and education; how he felt that one's blood status dictates where they should be educated, how Hogwarts was a school for wizards, not half breeds. There were sounds of agreement from the other adults around the table.  
Two dark haired boys sat flicking peas at each other across the table, only being stopped by their sharp looking mother, Walburga, who snapped at them to behave themselves, how they were in the company of great politicians and how their father would be furious if he found out they were showing themselves up. The boys, Sirius and Regulus, calmed down at once.  
Voldemort's eyes went back to the dark haired girl, Bellatrix. She was striking; with her pale skin, silky hair, blue eyes and ruby red lips. She was a sight to behold. Not unlike her mother, Druella.  
Druella Rosier had been a part of Voldemort's group of friends at school; a tall woman with thick blonde hair and heavily hooded eyes, she graced the room like a queen would. She had married her sweetheart, Cygnus, not long after leaving Hogwarts and fell pregnant soon after with their eldest daughter, Bellatrix. Then Andromeda, a brown haired girl, though just as striking as her older sister, was born soon after. Narcissa, the youngest of the three Black sisters, was born two years after Andromeda. She was quite as remarkable as her sisters, with her fair complexion and white blonde hair.  
His eyes went back to the girl. This entire evening was for her, to find her a pureblood suitor. No one approached her, apparently intimidated by her great beauty, although they stared at her.  
The end of the evening was called and the guests began to file out of the grand dining hall, with its high ceilings and stone floors which echoed the slightest noise even during the rowdiest of parties.  
Voldemort watched as the last guests left.  
He was alone with Cygnus, Druella, Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa.  
"My Lord?" Cygnus simpered, rubbing his hands together. Druella attended to her youngest daughters, who glowered at their father and then left the room.  
"That was a splendid meal, Cygnus. I believe you cooked that yourself?"  
Voldemort gazed at Cygnus, who smiled, "Indeed. One can't trust house elves with cooking, lest one has the same fate as the pitiful Hepzibah Smith. Do you know of her, My Lord? She was poisoned by her house elf. It was all over the papers, I'm sure you'd have heard about it."  
"I'm sure the Dark Lord heard about it, father." Bellatrix said in a low voice. She looked quite as disdainfully at her father as her younger siblings had. Though he doted on her, it was apparent to Voldemort that Bellatrix loathed her father.  
"Well, quite." Voldemort said shortly, "In fact, I met her while I was working at Borgin and Burke's prior to my studies of dark magic. She was a pleasant woman, though quite robust."  
Cygnus smiled unpleasantly at Voldemort. Bellatrix gazed nonchalantly at him, her blue eyes twinkling.  
"She was naïve to the last degree, however. I do not pity her. Though she has been dead for some time now, Cygnus."  
"Indeed, My Lord." Cygnus stroked his greased hair with a small hand, "May I escort you outside?"  
"That would be welcome."  
Bellatrix curtsied to the Dark Lord then gazed intently at her father, who said, "You can escort him, dear. I've just realised that I have business to attend to."  
"Of course, father."  
Bellatrix smiled to herself and then lead Voldemort out of the vast hall.  
"I saw you watching me during the meal, My Lord. Was the food that disappointing?"  
Voldemort chuckled to himself. This young creature before him had a wit beyond her years. She walked just like her mother, with the rise and fall of a dancer. Indeed, Bellatrix reminded him so much of her mother, though her hair was dark just like her father's.  
"Your father's food was mediocre. I believe you felt the same."  
Bellatrix's smile widened, "I believe the word 'bland' applies to that meal."  
"You're a wise girl, Bellatrix. Honesty in youth is such a scarcity these days." Voldemort stated, "Honesty was rewarded when I was younger, though I never quite stood by the policy. Merely telling the truth makes the world all the less stimulating. But look at me," He turned to Bellatrix, "Reminiscing about my past. I have grown quite sentimental with age."  
They passed through the great wooden door and out into the garden. They could hear a fountain playing. There were no words between them as they walked across the cobblestone path towards the gate where Voldemort could apparate.  
"It was a pleasure meeting you, My Lord." Bellatrix said, inclining her head subserviently.  
"Indeed. Goodnight, Bellatrix." Voldemort bowed his head and taking Bellatrix's hand in his own, he brushed his lips against the back of it and caught her eye as he raised himself up again. Her face had flushed with colour.  
He let go of her hand, the slim fingers slipping from within his, and then he disapparated with a very faint pop, which echoed into the night.

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	2. Chapter 2

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Voldemort was in bed, awake, staring at the ceiling. He simply could not sleep. He could not get that damned girl out of his head. Her piercing blue eyes, her wicked grin, her beautiful mouth…  
He felt himself beginning to sweat. He desired that young girl, that girl who had captivated him the moment he set eyes on her, that girl who had reminded him so much of her mother, that girl who was due to be married any day now to a stranger.  
Unease spread within him; was he beginning to feel for this girl, something more powerful than mere lust?  
He remembered how quick-witted she was, how her hand felt in his and how it felt to hold her gaze.

Voldemort sat up, frustrated with himself for feeling such emotions as lust. Lust, which always led to something else, which that muggle-loving fool Dumbledore spoke so highly of. Love.  
He climbed out of bed and walked into the hallway, craving a release for his rage. The rage which he admittedly brought upon himself. He saw Nott, a middle-aged man with whom he had attended school.  
"My Lord-"  
Voldemort raised his wand and with one swift movement, Nott was on the floor screaming.  
"My Lord, please!" He begged, panting as Voldemort released him.  
"Not until I'm satisfied." He hissed, his high voice ominous as he sent another curse in Nott's direction. He screamed again writhing on the floor in front of Voldemort, who laughed callously.  
When Voldemort eventually became bored of torturing Nott, he continued walking down the hallway, kicking the quivering Nott aside.  
He began marching down the stairs glowering at his followers who cowered as he passed, who bowed to him and mumbled, "My Lord" or "Hope you are well, Master."  
They had reason to be concerned for his wellbeing. His eyes had gone from their usual bloodshot state to a brilliant crimson. His cheeks were flushed, his knuckles white as he gripped his wand tightly in his hand.  
He strode out of the door of his manor, taking in his surroundings. Though the grounds were just as large as those of the Black Manor, they were not as well kept; weeds were growing by the foundations of the house; there were no trickling fountains, no hedges, no flowerbeds. Just weeds, overgrown grass and mud.  
He apparated with a faint pop to winding alley way. He stared down the dark path towards a woman with a voluptuous figure. He began to walk towards her.  
"You alright?" She called, she stroked her chest which was heaving. She was clad in a tight fitting top, a short skirt and a pair of high boots.  
"How much?" He sneered. He'd never resort to this. Never.  
"What you after?"  
He glared at her, he saw her face twitch in the dim light.  
"Oh, it's... It's five galleons."  
"Good." He leered at her, pushing her against the wall she was stood against. He kissed her roughly, she moaned into the kiss as he began to push her down on to the cobbled ground. He could feel his rage building again and as he felt the woman begin to pull at his robes, he slapped her. She cried out, and Voldemort began to undress himself, pushing her skirt up as he did so.  
"No, please-"  
"Shut up, silly girl!"  
He slapped her again, hissing at her. He laughed as she wept, screaming for help. He was going to enjoy this.

* * *

He pulled his robes back on.  
"Pathetic woman," he smirked, looking at her. Her face was covered in blood and bruises. A sense of pride filled him. He had destroyed her. He fingered the deep cut on her throat, licking the scarlet liquid from his fingers as he pulled away.  
He stood up and dusted himself down, looking at her as he did so. As the blood from her neck began to pool on her chest, he chuckled to himself. He threw her the money he owed her.  
"Not that you'll need it, my dear." He laughed, drawing his wand and pointing it to the sky. A green flame shot out of the tip of his wand and above him in the black night, was a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth. His eyes gleamed madly as he went back home to be greeted by his followers who noticed his calmer demeanour. He strode back to his room, a smile on his face as he climbed under the covers, he sighed as he rolled over and went to sleep.

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	3. Chapter 3

There was a mumbling amongst the Death Eaters the next morning. They huddled around a copy of the Daily Prophet, eating their cereals and bacon sandwiches. Voldemort smiled to himself, still proud of his misdeeds the night before. How the girl had cowered, screamed for mercy. She should have known better.  
He flicked through his copy of "Hogwarts: A History" as the Death Eaters theorized about how the girl had been killed. The fools were oblivious; he liked to keep them that way. Only he knew how that girl had been attacked, beaten to within an inch of her life. He could still hear the crunching of her skull against the cobblestone ground. He loved breaking those foolish women who sold their bodies.  
He crossed his legs and stretched absently, resting his book on his chest as he did so. There was a knock at the drawing room door. Dolohov, a man with a long, twisted face, answered it. Voldemort picked his book up again and started reading about Rowena Ravenclaw's discovery of the uses of Gillyweed in several different potions.  
He heard someone clear their throat and looked up. It was the dark haired girl, Bellatrix. He dropped his book at once, bounding across the room towards her and greeted her.  
"My Lord," She smiled, taking his hand and curtsying. He kissed her small hand and lead her into the drawing room, placing her in front of his followers, who stopped their chatter at once.  
"This is Cygnus Black's daughter, Bellatrix." He announced proudly, looking at her. She forced a smile, and turned to him.  
"It was you I actually wanted to speak to, My Lord." She said quietly, "as lovely as it has been to meet all of your followers."  
Voldemort furrowed his brow. What could the girl possibly want? He lead her out of the drawing room, down the hallway and into the kitchen which was dusty and seemed to have a musty smell.  
"What is it?"  
Bellatrix cleared her throat again, "I'm due to be married this Saturday."  
Voldemort smirked. He wondered how long it would take for Cygnus to tell his eldest daughter he'd found her a suitor. Voldemort had been aware for some time, having been informed by the girl's father the night after the feast.  
"To whom?" He said, cordially.  
Bellatrix looked uneasy. She looked at her feet and said in a quiet voice, "Rodolphus Lestrange."  
Voldemort's jaw dropped, "Rodolphus?"  
He could feel the rage he had felt the night before beginning to rise in him like bile. How could she dare marry that troll-like fool, Lestrange, who had been a follower of his since the beginning? Any moment now he was going to erupt.  
"Yes, Rodolphus Lestrange. I do not wish to marry him, but I must to maintain my family's image in the Wizarding world," she took a breath and continued, "You may be aware of the current reputation of the Black family. With all the mudbloods and squibs that are marrying into our family and being born to us, is it any surprise my father is making me marry into a family as prestigious as the Lestranges?"  
"Your father is a wife-beater, Bellatrix, you do not need to please him by marrying a complete stranger."  
Bellatrix nodded, sighing heavily and sitting at the dinner table. A cloud of dust emitted from beneath her as she sat down. Obviously the room was not well kept.  
"The man has no dignity. It's obvious, isn't it?" Voldemort muttered, loud enough for Bellatrix to hear, as she made a sound of agreement.  
"But he just wants the best for me. He's never beaten me before. Just my mother and sisters-"  
"Why do you think that is?"  
Bellatrix thought for a moment, Voldemort rolled his scarlet eyes, sitting beside her and taking her hands in his.  
"You're the quintessential Black daughter. Look at you!" He gestured at her, "You're intelligent, you're beautiful. He wouldn't want to beat his poster girl, now, would he?"  
His rage mellowed as he watched her; her chest was rising and falling slowly as she thought. This girl, although she disliked her father, didn't want to insult him. She had her reasons, of course. She didn't want to bring about a bad name for her family. But this girl… With her raven black hair, her twinkling eyes which shone in the sunlight, streaming through the wide kitchen window, those high cheekbones which were flushed with colour, her chiselled collarbone which was visible beneath her robes, her beautiful thin, ruby red lips… Voldemort felt himself moving towards her.  
"Bellatrix." He whispered, very softly. She fluttered her heavily lidded eyes at him. His heart beat faster and faster.  
"Yes?" She replied, just as quietly.  
Voldemort felt his stomach flip over and then realised what he was about to do. Without a second thought he shouted, "Get out of my house!"  
Bellatrix furrowed her brow, "Wha-"  
"Get out!" He stood up, pointing at the wooden door which they had entered through.  
She looked at him, confusion evident on her features. She walked silently out of the room, and Voldemort sat back down again, rubbing his forehead. He heard the front door open, and then close.  
There was a knock at the kitchen door.  
"Yes?" Voldemort snapped.  
Dolohov poked his head around the door, "What happened?"  
Voldemort gestured for him to sit down. He did so, looking at Voldemort through his narrow green eyes.  
"She's gorgeous, isn't she?" Voldemort muttered. Dolohov smiled.  
"She really is something, My Lord."  
And then it dawned on him.  
"Antonin," he leered. His red eyes narrowed. Dolohov blinked.  
"Yes, My Lord?"  
"The girl is due to be married this Saturday. If you could ruin the ceremony, interrupt it somehow—"  
Dolohov frowned, evidently he was opposed to the idea.  
"But it's her wedding day, My Lord-"  
"I know that, I know that. But if you could stop her from marrying that fool, Rodolphus Lestrange, I will reward you. You are, after all, my most faithful servant, are you not, Antonin?"  
Dolohov pushed out his chest and smiled, "But of course, My Lord."  
"Good."  
Voldemort rose from his seat and left the kitchen, followed by Antonin. They walked back into the drawing room. Nott and Mulciber had been joined in their reading of the morning paper by none other than-  
"Lestrange!" Voldemort barked. Rodolphus rose at once; a thickset man with a stubbly chin and heavy eyebrows.  
"My Lord," he grunted. The man was vile. What possessed Cygnus to pair his daughter with this orc? His brown hair was shaggy and messy, his eyes were deep set and blank. His back was slightly hunched as he stood in front of him.  
Voldemort eyed both Dolohov and Lestrange, "I'd just like to congratulate you on your engagement to Bellatrix Black," He said sourly. Rodolphus smiled crookedly, and the men in the room applauded him, as though congratulating him for his success.  
"However, I would like to add, after your wedding- if it goes through, that is," he glanced at Antonin Dolohov, "I wish for you and your bride to return here, where we will discuss both of your options for the future."  
Rodolphus had a gormless expression. Voldemort wasn't sure whether that was natural for him, or whether he was just clueless, "We will discuss further at the time, but congratulations, Rodolphus. I wish you a lifetime of... _happiness_," he spat the last word with venom. His other followers had noticed his bitter speech, for they stopped applauding Rodolphus and resumed reading the paper with haste. They continued with their chatter and Voldemort returned once again to his copy of "Hogwarts: A History." He was praying that Dolohov would remember to go through with the plan, but something in the back of his mind was telling him that Antonin's conscience would get the better of him. He and Rodolphus were close. Was he sure that Dolohov would go through with the plan? He shook the thought off, apparently finding it ridiculous that Antonin would not go through with it, he had been promised the highest honour after all. Why would he not go through with the plan?  
Dolohov shifted slightly in his seat.  
"Just to be sure," Voldemort muttered to himself, touching the wand within his robes.

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	4. Chapter 4

The day of the wedding arrived quicker than Voldemort had expected. He had been sure to make clear to Antonin that if he did not go through with their plan he would be punished. There would be no need to use the imperius curse on this occasion. He knew that Dolohov would be hesitant to interfere with the ceremony, but he understood that it was in his best interest to disrupt it enough for it to be cancelled.  
As the sun beat down from the cloudless blue sky, the blossoms from the trees outside the chapel drifted serenely through the air. The day couldn't have been more perfect.  
Rodolphus was waiting inside for his bride, while Bellatrix was nowhere to be seen. She was already ten minutes late for the ceremony. Would sheer luck postpone their marriage? Would Dolohov not have to act?  
Voldemort stood outside the stone chapel with Bellatrix's mother and a few of Bellatrix's school friends; a blonde haired girl with green glasses and red talons for nails, a stocky girl with sloping shoulders and mousy hair pulled back into a tight bun, and a teenage boy with luscious blond hair which shone like white gold in the sunlight.  
"Where could she be?" Druella fussed, looking at her watch. She was wearing a mint green gown and a crown braid.  
The blonde girl piped up, "I'm sure she's probably just dawdling. You know what Bellatrix is like."  
"But she's never this late, Rita." Druella sighed.  
Voldemort turned to face the doorway. Antonin Dolohov was stood there, his long face smiling broadly.  
"Happy?" He smirked.  
Voldemort stared at him, then it dawned on him, "You've made her late?"  
Dolohov nodded, apparently happy with himself, "I followed the carriage to the house and gave the thestral that was drawing it a sleeping draught. Clever, huh?"  
Voldemort looked impressed. His face contorted into something like a smile as he walked back down towards where Druella and Bellatrix's friends stood.  
"Hang on—" Druella exclaimed. They heard a revving engine and out of nowhere a Rolls Royce dropped from the sky, sweeping around the courtyard before halting in front of them.

Bellatrix's father climbed out of it.  
"You'll never believe what happened! Someone drugged the thestral! So poor Bella was fretting about not being able to make it to her wedding, and then it dawned on me!" He gestured towards the car.  
Voldemort turned to look at Dolohov who was stood in the doorway, but his broad smile faltered and turned into shock. He had not succeeded in stopping the wedding.

The backdoor of the car opened. Her hair was like a sheet of black silk, her skin was porcelain white. He had never seen her look so divine. The dress was sleeveless and trailed along the floor, although she looked like she was floating. Everyone outside fussed over her. Rita stroked her hair away from her shoulder, revealing that prominent collarbone, Lucius Malfoy commented on her dress, Alecto Carrow, the stooped girl, grunted about the necklace Bellatrix was wearing.  
Though she had had an ordeal getting to the chapel, Bellatrix looked far from flustered. Evidently the delay hadn't upset her. Upon seeing Voldemort she allowed herself to smile. He knew something was wrong.  
Her father led her inside the church and, as if on cue of her arrival, a harp began to play as Bellatrix walked down aisle. The floor before her was covered in white rose petals, the room lit by candelabras. Voldemort sat down at the front beside Rabastan, Rodolphus' brother, though they couldn't have looked less alike. Rabastan was thin and nervous looking. His eyes were wide and he appeared to have a permanent expression of shock. Though he and his brother were both odd looking, Rodolphus was definitely the better looking of the pair.  
Bellatrix reached the dais at the front of the chapel and turned to Rodolphus who was wearing a dark grey suit. His shaggy hair was tidier than it had been only a few days before, and his gormless expression had been replaced by a look of adoration. Bellatrix, however, appeared far from ecstatic. Her face was just as glum as it had been at the feast when he had first seen her. It was clear to Voldemort that Bellatrix did not want to marry this man. He turned around, looking for Dolohov. He was sat two rows back from him, talking to a busty woman with long blonde hair. Voldemort glared at him, and Dolohov raised his head.  
"Do something!" He mouthed.  
"What?" Dolohov said quite loudly. All the heads in the chapel turned to face him, and his twisted face turned scarlet. He slid down his pew, covering his face, which was more like a beacon, with his pale hand.

A squat man with a short silver beard and purple robes appeared from behind the golden altar on the dais. He cleared his throat and then pulled out a beaten black leather book from within his robes.  
"Dearly beloved," He boomed. His voice was surprisingly deep for a man with such short stature, "We are gathered here today in the presence of our Father in Heaven to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony."  
Voldemort's brain was boiling in rage-filled blood. His fury had drowned out the minister's voice, and all he could hear was his heartbeat. He looked up at Rodolphus, who was watching Bellatrix who seemed uncomfortable in her corseted white gown.  
"Is there any reason that these two should not be wed?" The minister's voice awoke Voldemort from his enraged daze. He was compelled to raise his hand but as he was about to, a voice came from behind him.  
"I have a reason!"  
All heads turned once again to Antonin Dolohov. Voldemort's rage cooled.  
"Go on," Said the Minister, "What is your reason?"  
Dolohov scratched his head, "Erm… He…"  
There was a wave of head shaking as everyone turned their heads back to Bellatrix and Rodolphus.  
"Thank you for disrupting the ceremony," the minister said coldly, "If there are no more obligations then without further ado I pronounce this couple man and-"  
"He's her sister's boyfriend's-"  
"STOP INTERRUPTING OR I WILL HAVE TO ASK YOU TO LEAVE!" The minister roared. He cleared his throat, "I pronounce this couple man and wife."  
He bowed to the pair, "You may kiss the bride, Mr Lestrange."  
Bellatrix pursed her lips. Rodolphus leaned in to try and kiss her, but she moved away, instead letting him kiss her cheek.

The harpist began to play again as the newlyweds walked back down the aisle together. Bellatrix looked fed up as Rodolphus guided her into the thestral drawn carriage outside, though most of the onlookers could probably just see the carriage and not the bony horse-like creature with its yellow eyes which gleamed like ambers. A wizard could not see a thestral unless they had seen death.  
Bellatrix slouched in the carriage; Rodolphus on the other hand had a million conversations at once with his new wife. She merely shook her head, or nodded. She didn't want to speak to him.

Druella frowned at Dolohov as the carriage began to move across the gravelled path.  
"Why did you do that?" There was a tone of disappointment in her voice.  
Dolohov looked at Voldemort and then back at Druella, "I don't think they're suited, that's all."  
Druella chuckled, "You were there at the feast, you could have proposed!"  
"As could many others," He eyed Voldemort while he spoke.

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Voldemort was in Knockturn Alley again, looking at the blood stained cobbled path where he had killed the slut. He sighed, resting against the window of Borgin and Burke's.  
Dolohov was right. He could have proposed to Bellatrix when he had the chance. Now she was married to a man she couldn't stand. He could have protected her from a life of misery, but instead he had neglected her feelings and been more interested in ruining what little chance of happiness she had with the troll, Lestrange.  
He could hear the woman's screams in his head as he looked once again at the bloodied wall, the bloodied ground…  
He needed to get back to the manor. He had arranged to meet the Lestranges after the reception. With a loud pop, he disapparated.

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The fading sun told him it was nearly ten o'clock. They would probably already be sat in his study, waiting to be told about their future. He walked up the stone steps towards the front door which, for some reason, was ajar. He pulled out his wand and poked the door open, peering inside.  
"Homenum Revelio," he whispered, there was nothing. The Lestranges had not yet arrived. The house was deserted.  
He climbed the stairs up to his study and sat in the wooden chair at his desk. He looked aimlessly at the paperwork on top of it; raid here, torture them, buy some cereal for Mulciber…  
He breathed deeply and then opened the top desk drawer, pulling out something long, thin and sharp; a dagger. He eyed it curiously before shoving it back where he had found it when there was a knock at the door.  
"Enter."  
Rodolphus entered, his cheeks pink and his smile wide. Bellatrix followed him in, her expression couldn't have been more different.  
"Sit down the pair of you." He pointed at two chairs by his desk and turned to face the couple as they sat down. Bellatrix crossed her legs and folded her arms, looking not at her husband but at Voldemort, whose red eyes gazed hungrily at her.  
"This meeting will be of more benefit to Bellatrix than to you, Rodolphus." Voldemort stated, he pointed his wand at a cabinet on the other side of the room, which opened and a set of ornately carved glass and silver goblets drifted over towards them, followed by a dusty bottle of elf made merlot, "Wine?"  
Bellatrix looked at Voldemort and smiled, taking a goblet and filling it nearly to the brim with the dark red liquid.  
"You don't want to drink too much, Bellatrix, you'll get-"  
Bellatrix shot Rodolphus a stern look which made him stop talking abruptly. Voldemort smirked as Bellatrix drank half of the goblet of wine in what felt like a heartbeat.  
"I wish to teach Bellatrix the dark arts. She needs to be aware of how dangerous this world can be. I feel it is essential for her to be capable of using dark magic to protect herself."  
"I agree!" Piped up Bellatrix, though Voldemort could tell by her expression that she really just wanted to spend as little time as possible with Rodolphus.  
"You—you agree?" Shouted Rodolphus, standing up in his fury.  
Voldemort beckoned him to sit down, then continued, "I think it is a wise decision and as long as Bellatrix is willing, which she clearly is, there will be no harm in teaching her skills which I feel are necessary for her survival as a Death Eater-"  
"You're initiating her?"  
Voldemort nodded, "I feel she has the makings of a true warrior; someone I can consider my second in command, if you were."  
Voldemort looked at Bellatrix who, for the first time since getting out of the flying Rolls Royce earlier that day, looked satisfied.  
"Then there is no argument. Bellatrix," He stood up, taking her hand, "Your next lesson shall be Tuesday next at dusk. Do not be late, I shall be waiting for you right here."  
"Why then? Why not tomorrow?" She asked, the colour rising in her cheeks.  
"I feel you need time to settle into your new home. But there is nothing stopping you from approaching me before our lesson, if you wish to. After all, we will be living under the same roof."  
Bellatrix's eyes twinkled like sapphires. The widest smile spread across her face.  
"This is insane! You think a girl would be any good as a Death Eater?"  
Voldemort chuckled, "When you take brute strength out of the equation, Rodolphus, a woman is just as strong as a man."  
Rodolphus narrowed his eyes at Voldemort, "She's _my_ wife. I say what she can do."  
Voldemort smirked, "Very Dickensian of you, Rodolphus."  
Rodolphus' fury was spreading across his once joyful face now; which had gone from a warm pink to an ugly, blotchy red. He snatched Bellatrix's hand from Voldemort and stormed out of the room without a second glance, slamming the door behind him.

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	5. Chapter 5

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The next morning, Voldemort was sat in his leather chair in the drawing room reading "Charm Your Own Cheese" by the fireplace. After the glorious day before, the weather had turned colder. Rain trickled down the windows and the sky outside was a grim slate grey.  
"Good morning," Said a husky voice from the doorway behind him.  
He turned his head and saw Bellatrix; her face pale and groggy, her eyes cloudy from sleep. She was wearing a blue shirt and a pair of checked shorts. She was slim; worryingly so. He could see the shape of the bones in her legs as she walked across the room to sit on the sofa, running her slim fingers through the bird's nest that had settled on her head.  
"Good night, was it?" Voldemort asked, a smile creeping across his thin lips. Bellatrix laughed.  
"If you call being mounted by a gorilla a good night, then yes, I did have a good night."  
"I must be honest, I've haven't been mounted by many gorillas lately."  
The two looked at each other for some time. To him, time seemed to have stood still. No longer could he hear the spitting rain outside; it had just become a haze of noise. Bellatrix looked away, smiling awkwardly, gazing instead out of the window where the rain thundered against the glass.  
Voldemort, however, continued watching Bellatrix.  
"Was he your first?"  
Bellatrix looked at him again, her blue eyes wide, "He was my first time, yes."  
Voldemort raised his eyebrows. How could she have been a virgin when she was so… mystifying? Surely she had men knocking at her door every night requesting her company in bed.  
"He was bumpy to say the least. Though I'm not surprised, Rodolphus never struck me as the type to be concerned with his partner's comfort."  
Voldemort smirked, "No. No he doesn't strike me as such, either."  
He admired how honest the girl was. This was the first real conversation they'd had. She was eloquent for her age, due to her upbringing no doubt. Most of her peers spoke in slurs, yet her clarity remained unsullied by her friends and former classmates.  
He watched as she gazed back out of the window, her Grecian nose twitching slightly.  
"Can you smell food?" She asked, and then she stared at Voldemort's flat, snakelike nose.  
Voldemort nodded, standing up and taking her hand, "No matter, food can wait. I have something to show you."  
He led her out of the drawing room, down the winding corridors bursting with portraits and mumbling Death Eaters, up a steep flight of stairs to the attic; a dusty room filled with a jumble of meaningless objects covered in white sheets. Bellatrix eyed a black handled mirror curiously then placed it back down on to the wooden chest where she had found it. Voldemort pulled the sheets from cupboards and portraits until he found-  
"Come here, Bellatrix."  
The young girl walked over quietly, though this did not stop the floorboards from squeaking. She stopped beside him and watched as he opened an armoire, a gilded thing with brilliant platinum legs, revealing a small golden cup. Bellatrix picked it up without thinking, looking at the ornate badger engraved on the object before her.  
"This was-"  
"Helga Hufflepuff's. Indeed it was. You're a bright girl, Bellatrix and I can think of no one more suited to protect my treasure. One day this shall be yours. You must look after it for me, it is important that you protect it do you understand?"  
"But it's just a cup," She furrowed her brow, "Why do I need to protect it?"  
Voldemort's mouth twisted into something like a smile, "Let's just say it's almost a part of me."  
Bellatrix did not question him further. She placed the cup back in the armoire and closed the door.  
"Will you do as I ask?"  
Bellatrix nodded. Voldemort pushed her hair away from her ear and whispered, "Thank you, my Bella."  
He felt her shudder at his touch and did not resist his temptation this time. He kissed her cheek and she moaned at the sensation of his cool lips against her skin.  
"No… We shouldn't." She pushed him away, but looked hungrily at him.  
"The last woman to deny me what I wanted ended up dead in Knockturn Alley." He smiled to himself, "I even paid her for giving in to my advances, though I had destroyed her by that time."  
"That was you?" Bellatrix shouted, backing away from Voldemort, "You attacked that woman?"  
Voldemort nodded, closing the gap Bellatrix had created between them and grabbed her by the shoulders, "You will not deny your Master of what he wants, will you?" He pushed her down on the floor, just as he had done to the woman in Knockturn Alley, "You're the reason she's dead. I killed her because of you."  
"Don't make me feel guilty!" She struggled underneath him, "I didn't make you kill her-"  
"Yes you did. You made me want something that no ordinary woman would give me willingly. She struggled, screamed for help. No one came for her. I got my release, I disposed of her. But you… You're no ordinary woman, now, are you? You won't scream, will you? You won't cry out for your _ape_ of a husband?"  
"GET OFF ME!" She screamed, punching his chest. He kissed her roughly. He could feel her trying to push him away.  
"You know you want this, Bella-"  
"If you're asking me to join you so I can be your whore-"  
"The glances, the teasing remarks," He kissed her again.  
"Please…" She whimpered, "Don't do this."  
He pulled away, pushing himself back to his feet. Bellatrix looked at him, obviously confused, though her eyes were wet with tears.  
He stared at her cowering form, and for a fleeting moment he realised what he was about to do to her. He turned, speeding past the dusty jumble of objects and out of the attic without even a second glance. Bellatrix lay on the broken floorboards, touching her lips as hot tears escaped from beneath her eyelids.

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**Hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was difficult to write the end, I must be honest. Please leave a review telling me what you thought, if you enjoyed or not. Thank you!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hope you enjoy this chapter! Please leave a review, they really keep me motivated!**

* * *

It was the day before Bellatrix and Voldemort's first lesson. They had not said a single word to one another after their encounter in the attic. Voldemort was furious. Not with Bellatrix, but with himself. It was foolish of him to even attempt what he had done.  
That morning at breakfast, he sat opposite Bellatrix. He ate some jam on toast while she ate nothing, but instead had a cup of tea.  
He was going to brave speaking to her for the first time in over a week.  
"Are you looking forward to tomorrow?"  
The Death Eaters sat near them could sense the tension. They hushed their conversations and watched the pair of them. Bellatrix had obviously told them about what had happened.  
She nodded at him, sipping on her tea and reading the morning paper, "Definitely. I was wondering whether you could show me how to use some of the Unforgivable Curses."  
Voldemort looked shocked, "Don't run before you can walk, Bellatrix. We don't want to blow out your wand. Believe me, it can have disastrous consequences." He glowered at Augustus Rookwood, a man with a square pockmarked face, who flushed slightly, hiding behind his lank hair.  
Bellatrix smirked, "Will it be at the same time?"  
"Dusk? Yes. No earlier, no later. I may be pre-occupied. I do not wish for you to encounter me in a prior engagement. I doubt you'd enjoy that either, child."  
Bellatrix frowned. Apparently what he had said displeased her. Voldemort smiled to himself and finished what remained of his jam on toast in a mouthful.  
"I shall see you then. I am required in the North by the Prewett family."  
Augustus Rookwood piped up, "The family of aurors?"  
"Yes, Rookwood. I do not need the help of a Death Eater. No… I can do this on my own."  
Voldemort swept out of the room, leaving Bellatrix and the Death Eaters alone at last.  
The men eyed the young woman curiously. It was as though she was the first woman they had ever clapped eyes on.  
"So…" Gregory Goyle, a brutish looking man with a blunt jaw, stated, "Why do you want to be a Death Eater, Beatrix?"  
Bellatrix frowned, "It's Bellatrix and the Dark Lord requested my service. I feel honoured that the greatest wizard of all time has asked me to join him."  
The men seemed confused by her, "But you're a woman." Said Crabbe, an equally brutish man with a foolish expression.  
"A woman is equal to a man when you remove-"  
"'Physical strength from the equation.' Yes, Bella. We know. Shut up and drink your tea." Rodolphus barked at his wife. Bellatrix raised an eyebrow at him, the men around the table laughed at her. Bellatrix smiled and lifted her tea cup. Though rather than drinking from it, she grabbed her husband's trousers and poured the scolding liquid down into his boxers. He cried out, his face a brilliant shade of red. He grabbed his crotch, whimpering. The laughter that had emitted from the Death Eaters did not stop but they no longer laughed at Bellatrix, rather laughing at Rodolphus and his crimson face, his bulging eyes and the steaming wet patch across his trouser front. They pointed, howling with laughter, at the thickset man whose face became more and more red by the second.  
"No one speaks to me like that, understood?"  
Rodolphus nodded, but appeared unable to speak as he attempted to soothe his scolded, swollen member.  
"And that goes for the rest of you!" Bellatrix said calmly, rising from the table and leaving through the same door that Voldemort had left from.

* * *

It was nearly eight o'clock. The sun was beginning to disappear over the horizon.  
Voldemort sat in a wooden chair, his fingers tented beneath his chin as he looked out of the window. There was a small knock at the door. He called for whomever it was to enter and as he turned around he saw that it was Bellatrix.  
"Ah. You're early!"  
She smiled at him, "You said you had a prior engagement."  
"Indeed I did." He rose, guiding her into the room where she sat on the window seat by a pair of high bookcases, "The encounter yesterday with the Prewetts was more of a success than I expected. No matter. I am here now, with you."  
Bellatrix looked uneasy.  
"Now where to start?" He questioned himself, pacing the room, "You expressed an interest in the Unforgivable Curses, did you not, Bellatrix? Indeed, I said it was unwise to begin with such advanced magic for someone so young and, forgive me, naïve," Bellatrix fidgeted as Voldemort continued, "But you, dear girl, you are not as unknowledgeable as some of my more skilled followers. I daresay you could defeat them in a duel without a single ounce of training for you are young and agile, both mentally and physically."  
Bellatrix flushed, she fingered the wand in her robes.  
"Yes. I shall teach you how to use the Imperius Curse." Voldemort helped Bellatrix up from the window seat, "Now to understand a spell, I believe you need to feel it first. So I will use the Imperius Curse on you, then you can have a go on me. It's a simple incantation. You simply raise your wand and say 'Imperio'."  
Bellatrix's mind became void of thought. It was bliss. There was no more pain, no more worry. She could have quite happily stayed in that state forever. A voice in her mind whispered, "Walk towards your master, Bellatrix."  
She did as she was bidden, though she could not see where she was going. She felt almost like a puppet with no strings.  
Voldemort raised his wand again, releasing her from the Curse.  
"How did that feel?" He asked, groping in his pocket for an unopened chocolate frog which he handed to Bellatrix, who opened it carefully.  
"It felt amazing."  
"I know you enjoyed it. I heard your thoughts. One day I shall teach you how to do the very same. The art of Occlumency and Legilimency; a dangerous task, but nevertheless a useful skill to have in ones arsenal." Voldemort placed his wand back in his pocket as Bellatrix finished the chocolate frog, "Very much like a Dementor, a well-cast Imperius Curse can take a lot of energy out of you. Now it is your turn, Bellatrix."  
She raised her eyes to meet his and took her wand out of her robes.  
"You must mean it for it to be effective. Righteous anger won't hurt or control anyone for long."  
Bellatrix nodded and raised her wand, "Imperio!"  
There was a popping noise and a large amount of smoke came out of the tip of Bellatrix's wand. Both Bellatrix and Voldemort choked on the air. Voldemort rushed to the window and opened it.  
"What did I do wrong? I did everything you told me to do!"  
Voldemort clicked his tongue disapprovingly and stood behind Bellatrix, "Put your hands, on mine." He stretched his hands out from behind her and she placed her small hands on his. The feel of her hands on his made something within him twitch. He shook off the feeling and moved his and Bellatrix's hands into the right position.  
"Now stay like that."  
"Forever?"  
Voldemort laughed, coming out from behind her, "If you wish, but I'd much prefer not to have a living statue in my office," He straightened himself up and looked intently at her, "Now when you're ready I want you to try again."  
She took a deep breath and said, "Imperio," once more. This time something had happened. A feeling of warmth spread through Bellatrix; through the sinews and veins that connected her arms to her hands, and then into her wand.  
Voldemort felt a feeling of complete bliss, just like Bellatrix had done. He heard her whispering voice in the back of his head, just quietly, "Take a step back." He opened his eyes. He had not moved.  
"That was fantastic for a second attempt, Bellatrix. But I was able to shake you off. You need practice, but you now have the right technique. Do you want to try again?"  
Bellatrix smiled, nodding.

* * *

Long into the night they practice. She grew stronger with each attempt and she was finally able to bewitch her master by four in the morning. They both sat on the sofa by the window. Voldemort had produced a bottle of firewhiskey for the pair of them. He poured her another tumbler as they talked about Rodolphus' encounter with tea on Monday morning. Voldemort was howling with laughter as Bellatrix described her husband's face as the boiling drink burned the sensitive areas in his trousers.  
"You are something else, aren't you?" Voldemort hiccoughed, trying to maintain a straight face, "Never have I met a woman brave enough to stand up to her husband like that."  
"Do I live up to your expectations?" She smiled, slurring slightly. She took another drink of firewhiskey.  
"You exceed them." Voldemort replied.  
Bellatrix grinned, her eyes misty and face slightly pink, "I didn't mean as a follower, My Lord. I mean… Physically."  
Voldemort could sense where this was going, "I think it's time you returned to your husband, Bellatrix."  
"Ah! He's no use to me!" She grabbed the front of Voldemort's robes as he led her out of his office, "Let me stay with you tonight."  
"As tempting as it is, it's a no." Voldemort said, forcing her out, "I shall see you in the morning."  
He slammed the door. He heard her grumbling something as she left. He breathed a sigh of relief. She was wonderful when she was sober, but a menace when she was drunk.  
He could not believe how well she had succeeded with the Imperius Curse, however. Within only a few short hours she was able to control him as though he was a part of her. Though he had given her a chance by lowering his guard greatly. To any other wizard, she would be able to control them with ease.  
He had succeeded at last.

* * *

The following morning Voldemort arrived at the table to see an exhausted Bellatrix with red puffy eyes and an all English breakfast in front of her.  
"Not too much noise…" She mumbled, eating what appeared to be scrambled eggs.  
"Never again?" Voldemort asked, a gloating smirk playing on his lips  
"Never again." She repeated, "I've had three cups of coffee and I still feel like there's a percussion orchestra in my head."  
"Well, you've learned your…"  
Rodolphus came in with a wok and a wooden spoon and stood behind Bellatrix's head. She was unaware of his arrival until-  
_BANG__!__  
_He had hit the wok like a gong behind her head and she cried out in pain.  
"RODOLPHUS!" She shrieked, climbing out of her chair and snatching the wok from his grasp. She hit him on the back of the head with it and chased him out of the room.  
Now he was alone, he had time to think. He had thoroughly enjoyed his time alone with Bellatrix the night before, minus the alcohol of course. Apparently the demon drink had fuelled her erotic advances the night before. Perhaps he could arrange for another night alone? But not in his office…

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******More chapters are on the way, please leave a review and tell me what you thought!  
**I'm really sorry about how long it has been between the last update and this update. My cat had been very ill for some time and went downhill on Thursday, unfortunately we had to put him to sleep on Saturday and I haven't really felt like writing, as I'm sure you'll understand. **Thank you for all of your support and the next chapter should be up in the next couple of days.**


	7. Chapter 7

"Tickets to the Chudley Cannons match?" Mulciber looked confused as the Dark Lord handed out tickets to each of his male followers.  
"Yes, Mulciber. I know you all like Quidditch and I'd like to have the house to myself for a few hours. I'm sure you'll enjoy the match, even though the Cannons are quite poor as a team."  
Rabastan Lestrange rolled his eyes, "The Cannons are rubbish! Couldn't you've got us tickets for the Holyhead Harpies?"  
Voldemort raised his eyebrows, "Look at the ticket, Rabastan."  
Rabastan examined the ticket and grinned foolishly, "Ah. So the Cannons _and _the Harpies are playing."  
Voldemort nodded, "I want you all gone by six o'clock tonight. Is that under-"  
"My Lord," Rodolphus Lestrange said, "There's no ticket for Bellatrix. What's she going to do?"  
Voldemort smirked. The fool had not assumed his plan yet, "Bellatrix will remain here. I doubt she'd enjoy Quidditch anymore than I do. She will stay here and study for her initiation next week. I will be on hand to assist her if she requires help."  
A lot of the Death Eaters seemed quite happy that Bellatrix would not be joining them. The Lestranges, however, seemed against the idea entirely. They did not argue with the Dark Lord. They stared at their tickets and then shoved them in their pockets for safe keeping.  
"Thank you, My Lord." The Death Eaters mumbled as they left the room. Voldemort smiled to himself. He would finally be alone with Bellatrix. He could do whatever he wanted with her. Indeed the idea of being alone with her made something inside him tingle, her husband would not be there to stop him, either, for he would be in a stadium screaming obscenities at the Quidditch players who fell off their brooms, or failed to score.  
He walked out of the room and made his way outside, into the cold air which proved that autumn was almost upon them at last. He walked through the wilderness of a garden and towards a tall birch tree whose leaves were becoming golden. A single terracotta leaf fell to the muddy ground as he walked towards it, looking up at the cloudy sky. There was a humidity hanging in the air, a clinging heat that threatened to make even the driest of men sweat. It was quite unpleasant to Voldemort, who dabbed his face with his hand as he sat on the drier ground beneath the tree, staring at the clouds which moved gently through the sky.

He didn't know how long he'd been outside until his followers began to file out of the manor, a noise of chatter surrounding them. Evidently they were excited; even the Lestranges seemed thrilled to be going.  
Voldemort stood up and began to walk inside, where he was greeted by an empty foyer.  
He began to make his way upstairs to Bellatrix's room, each stair creaking at his weight. He found his way to the door and knocked on it, waiting for the girl to answer.  
There was a muffled sound inside, then a click and Bellatrix opened the door. She was in nothing more than a silk dressing gown and a nightdress. She had her wand in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.  
"Oh, it's just you. Come in." She mumbled wearily, making her way back to the ornate dressing table.  
The room was sumptuously decorated with a magnificent marble hearth that dominated the far side of the room. The oak sleigh bed, which was more than big enough for both Bellatrix and her husband, sat opposite the closed bathroom door next to where Bellatrix sat. The silk curtains were pulled back from the windows revealing an extraordinary view Voldemort did not realise this house had; tall mountains covered with snow and plants, waterfalls trickling down the rock face. It was breath taking.  
"Were… Were you expecting someone else?"  
"Ah, no. I just thought Rodolphus may have come back."  
Voldemort cleared his throat, watching Bellatrix as she turned back to what she was writing, "I hope you don't mind me sitting on your bed. Having been sat outside for so long, is it any wonder that my legs are quite sore?"  
Bellatrix chuckled, taking a sip of coffee, "Where I come from they call that 'numb bum.'"  
"Are you quite done yet? I was hoping to teach you the Cruciatus Curse this evening."  
Bellatrix turned back to him, watching as he sat like a child on her bed, "The Cruciatus Curse?"  
Voldemort nodded but did not elaborate. He stood up, taking his wand from his pocket. He moved it like a sword through the air and the curtains closed at once, blocking out the dying sunlight.  
Bellatrix, who had put down her coffee, stood up, facing the Dark Lord.  
"You know how the Cruciatus Curse works, don't you? You've read the books I've given you?"  
She nodded, looking at the leather backed books on her dressing table.  
"Good, then we shall begin," Voldemort bowed to Bellatrix who smiled.  
"Why are you doing this?" She giggled, "Bowing, I mean?"  
"My dear, this is going to be a duel. I'm not simply going to use the Cruciatus Curse on you. If you're prepared for it, then you won't feel the ferocity of the curse. I want you to be surprised when I torture you. So if we are going to duel, then we will use duelling etiquette, is that understood?"  
Bellatrix's smile broadened as she bowed, but did not break eye contact with Voldemort, who was smirking.  
He moved his wand like a whip and a stream of brilliant red light flew at Bellatrix. She dodged it by mere inches and the spell smashed into the window. Bellatrix pointed her wand at Voldemort and whispered a spell. In seconds, Voldemort was bound tightly by a thin, black rope. He hissed at it and it became a serpent which rose up into the air and dove, spitting angrily, at Bellatrix who shrieked in pain. She moved her hand away from her face and Voldemort saw that the snake's fangs had scratched her cheek. This was his chance.  
"Crucio!"  
Her legs buckled and she collapsed, writhing on the floor. She let out a throat ripping scream as she pounded the floor with her fists. He raised his wand again, and she lay sobbing at his feet.  
"What was that like, Bella?"  
She raised herself up, shaking slightly, "Yeah… That was…"  
"It hurts, doesn't it?" Voldemort asked, Bellatrix nodded, "Now, Bella. It is your turn. We will not duel this time. You appear tired so I won't push you. Do your worst, dear."  
Bellatrix stood, panting slightly, aftershocks of the curse still going through her. She raised her wand, and shouted, "Crucio!"  
Voldemort felt a surge of pain inside of him. His bones were on fire, every blood vessel felt as though it was bursting, images crossing his mind like film; the bullies from the orphanage, the idiots from Hogwarts, Dumbledore denying him the job as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Bellatrix. Bellatrix, with her gloating smile. Bellatrix, with her fiery passion. Bellatrix, who was not his. Everything that had made his blood boil was polluting his mind. And then it was gone…

He lay, sweating and cold on the floor. It was over… All over… The horcruxes, the experiments, were for nought. He was gone. Ripped from his body.  
He felt something cool touch his face. Or more, where his face should have been. But if he could feel, then he could see. He opened his eyes. He was lying face down on Bellatrix's bedroom floor. And what was touching his face was her pale hand on his cheek.  
"You were out cold for twenty minutes. Are you okay?"  
Voldemort sat up, looking at her sparkling blue eyes. He nodded, "That was remarkable, Bellatrix. You're a natural."  
She beamed at him, and then her hand touched his. He looked down at their touching hands, and then back at her. Her eyes were wide, looking at his. Her other hand moved to somewhere else on his body-  
"Bella!" He gasped.  
She smiled at him, that perfect smile… He closed the gap between them. She did not fight him off this time. She moaned into the kiss, stroking his neck. He shivered at her touch. He began to pull off her dressing gown, throwing it aside as it fell to the floor. She smirked, pushing him away, but her eyes were filled with lust. She stood up, taking his hand and leading him to the bed.

He had what he craved at last.

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**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. Your kind words and support mean the world to me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, more to come soon!  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hope you enjoy, please leave a review :)**

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Their robes were sprawled across the wooden floor at the foot of the bed, their shallow breathing the only sound that could be heard in the vast bedroom. She was sleeping now, but he was leaning over her watching her chest rise and fall. Their passionate escapade had exhausted her no doubt. He didn't expect anything else. He smiled to himself as he climbed out of the bed and began to dress, pulling his robes over his shoulders. He looked back at Bellatrix who was still sleeping.  
He walked towards the door and turned the bronze handle, stepping out of the room and into the narrow corridor where he bumped into none other than-  
"Rodolphus!" He said coolly, "I didn't expect you back so early."  
"Where's my wife?" Rodolphus growled dangerously.  
Voldemort waved his hand, "Don't worry, she's safely tucked up in bed. I made sure of that."  
Rodolphus seemed to relax, "Good." He looked away from the door behind which his wife was sleeping, "The others are downstairs. The match was stopped part way through. Bad weather conditions, have you seen outside?"  
"No, no I haven't." Voldemort sighed, "To be honest, my friend, I'm not one for staring out of windows."  
Rodolphus sneered and then walked into his bedroom and closed the door. Voldemort sighed with relief and made his way downstairs, stepping into the drawing room and found his Death Eaters. Most of them were soaked.  
"Sorry, My Lord. It's pouring down outside, nowhere else to dry off." August Rookwood announced.  
"No matter, Rookwood. Just be sure to tidy up after yourself."  
The Death Eater smiled, continuing to ring out his robes. Voldemort sat down on the sofa and picked up the evening paper.

_Muggle Couple Murdered__  
A muggle couple were found dead in their home in Warrington this afternoon. It is believed that their deaths are the result of a Death Eater attack. Anyone who has any information please contact Cornelius Fudge, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement._

"Oh yeah, that was Dolohov!" Mulciber shouted as he fought to remove one of his boots, "Did a good job. Clean job."  
"Not so clean as to keep the Aurors off our scent." Voldemort sneered, "Which reminds me, I need to set up the protective charms again."  
Voldemort rose from the sofa and swept across the room and into the foyer. He opened the wooden door. The Death Eaters were right. The weather was torrential. Rain was crashing down from the black sky. Voldemort raised his wand and then squinted. Something was moving just past the boundary wall.  
He stepped forward and then saw another figure moving in the distance.  
"STUPEFY!" He boomed. The red light shot across the manor grounds and hit the wall.  
There was a scrambling noise inside and the Death Eaters flew out.  
"What's wrong?"  
"What's happening, My Lord?"  
Voldemort did not say a word, nodding towards the dark figures moving slowly across the ground.  
"Aurors." Rabastan Lestrange hissed.  
There was a roar of noise and his followers charged forwards, blasting spell after spell at the Aurors who barked orders at each other. Flashes of red and green light, screeching. It looked like an obscene firework display.  
"YOU COWARD!" Came the familiar voice of Alastor Moody, "FIGHT LIKE A MAN!"  
Voldemort laughed, "Why should I fight when I have my followers?"  
More and more Aurors were appearing out of thin air and he could see his Death Eaters faltering.  
His wand twitched in his hand and he sent a curse straight at Moody who shouted in pain.  
"Finally grown some balls, Riddle?" Moody laughed, as a jet of red light was sent at Voldemort.  
Voldemort snarled, waving his wand and there was a rush of air. Moody was sent flying, just as another Auror darted at Voldemort. The Auror threw a fist into Voldemort's cheek. Voldemort laughed, a high, cold, mirthless laugh.  
"Fool!"  
He watched Antonin Dolohov skid on the muddy ground as he ran after a tall woman with bushy red hair, "You bitch!" He roared.  
Voldemort sent a jet of green light in the woman's direction. There was a shriek, and she collapsed.  
Moody had returned to the battle, smiting any Death Eater that got in his way.  
Some of the Death Eaters had ran back into the house as Rodolphus Lestrange appeared in the doorway, "Bloody hell!"  
"Yeah, mate." Rabastan laughed, slapping his brother's chest.  
The Aurors charged after the Death Eaters, tackling them to the ground. The Death Eaters roared, sending curse after curse at their enemies.  
Voldemort threw a small man out of his way, blasting him with a stunning spell. More and more Aurors were swarming towards the manor. There was a thundering noise and then a crash.  
Voldemort did not think. He ran back into the house and saw more of his followers collapsed on the floor than Aurors.  
"Tom," There was a tap on his shoulder. He smirked.  
"Dumbledore." He turned, glowering at the older wizard.  
"It seems foolish to me that you allow your followers to be defeated, rather than fight yourself."  
"It seems foolish to me that you stand here speaking to your enemy rather than kill him."  
Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling, his half-moon spectacles resting on his crooked nose, "You do have a point, Tom. But I was never one to kill even my worst enemy. You know that."  
Voldemort laughed wickedly, "I, on the other hand, am not!"  
He whipped his wand through the air. Dumbledore was engulfed by a ball of brilliant white light. Voldemort ran into the drawing room which was in ruin. Tables had been knocked on to their sides, Sofa cushions had been ripped apart. These men were prepared to kill, as they wrestled on the floor like animals.  
A red light darted past him and he turned to see Dumbledore smiling. He snarled at him, throwing a killing curse in his direction, which missed by millimetres and hit a grandfather clock by the staircase which burst into flames.  
Dumbledore sent another spell at him, the same spell he had sent at Moody. He conjured a shield out of thin air which took the brunt of the blow, but made a terrible gong noise.  
Spell after spell was sent between the two wizards; curse after curse, but to no avail. The old man just would not falter. He threw a killing curse at him again, which caught the foot of his robes. He tried a stunning spell, the Cruciatus curse. Nothing would make him falter. And then-  
"Would you like me to put out the fire spreading across your landing, Tom?"  
Voldemort furrowed his brow, "What madness—"  
He looked at the landing. The clock which had hit with a killing curse had fallen onto the stairs, which were now ablaze, and the flames were spreading ferociously up the landing. The flames were scorching the ceiling, which was beginning to collapse.  
"Bellatrix!" He shrieked. He pushed Dumbledore out of the way and began climbing the scorching staircase. His robes were getting caught by the flames. He ran quicker than he had ever ran before and he banged against the door, which was boiling hot.  
"BELLATRIX!" He screamed, thumping on the door.  
There was no sound. Black smoke was beginning to seep into the room from the flames which were quickly moving towards the room.  
"BELLATRIX!"  
He had no choice. He kicked the door and it rattled on its hinges. Another hard kick and it fell into the room, where Bellatrix was still asleep; still naked, unknowing of the chaos downstairs. He rushed towards her.  
"Wake up!" He shouted, tapping her face. There was no response. She was still breathing.  
He grabbed the duvet around her and bundled her inside of it, carrying her like a child in his arms. It was useless to go back the way he had come. The flames were already beginning to come into the grand bedroom. He looked at the bedroom window and then at the woman in his arms. He placed Bellatrix by the bedroom window. She coughed in her sleep as she was placed down. Voldemort smashed the window with his elbow, which shattered completely, and then threw Bellatrix out of the window. He waved his wand to guide her gently on to the muddy ground and then dived out after her. He rolled on to the ground and watched as the fire blasted out of the bedroom window.  
He turned to look at Bellatrix, still asleep. Either she had been knocked unconscious by the smoke or she was a very heavy sleeper.  
There was screaming inside the house and Death Eaters and Aurors spilled out of the manor.  
"My friends, apparate to the Black household!"  
He picked up Bellatrix in his arms and apparated, appearing outside of the grand manor house, whose serenity was a relief from the chaos he had just left. The tinkling fountains, the cats which fought playfully. He carried Bellatrix to the door and knocked with his fist on the glass pane. Druella appeared, a look of horror on her face as she opened the door.  
"What happened? Where are the others?"  
Voldemort shook his head, carrying Bellatrix into the great entrance hall.

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	9. Chapter 9

**I hope you like this chapter, leave a review if you do! They mean a lot.  
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"Aurors, Druella! Aurors!" He snapped as he rested Bellatrix, who he had since arriving dressed in a nightgown, on the living room sofa. She was still unconscious.  
"What happened to my daughter?" Druella shrieked. Her face had gone from ghost white to crimson with fury in a matter of seconds, "Did they hurt her?"  
Voldemort shook his head, "No. She was asleep when the stairs caught fire. I think she inhaled some of the smoke. She won't wake."  
Druella came up behind him and massaged his shoulders, "None of it was your fault."  
He chuckled at the woman's naivety, "I didn't blame myself. It was the old fool, Dumbledore. He got in my way, but my skills faltered. I missed him by less than an inch."  
"Master!" A simpering voice came from the doorway. It was Cygnus. His greasy black hair was combed over to disguise his increasingly receding hairline, his cold eyes wide, "We weren't expecting you! Can I…" He looked down at Bellatrix, "What have you done to her?"  
Voldemort looked down at the floor, "Druella will tell you what happened. All I ask is that you protect her. The Aurors may attack again and I don't want my most powerful follower to be incapable of battle."  
"Are you leaving?" Druella asked, moving across the room towards him.  
Voldemort nodded but did not elaborate. He could no longer look at Cygnus and Druella's worrying faces.  
"You can't leave. Not tonight!" Druella hissed, grabbing hold of his arm. Voldemort turned and looked at her, her blue eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Then he looked at Bellatrix, who was so still that had he not known that she was still alive, he could quite easily have thought she was dead.  
"I'll watch over Bellatrix tonight, Druella. You two can return to bed."  
Cygnus beamed at Voldemort and then received a sour look from his wife.  
"And Cygnus!" Voldemort called to the man who was walking through the doorway. He turned, "Try to control your rage."  
Cygnus' eyes narrowed and then he smiled, "Of course, My Lord," and he left, closing the door behind him.

He waited until he could no longer hear their footsteps outside of the room and then sat down next to Bellatrix who was still breathing, though very lightly. He watched as her chest rose and then fell with each breath. He had been watching her for a few minutes, or maybe a few hours, when a blonde girl walked in to the room with a pair of silky pink pyjamas on.  
"Mother and Father told me what happened to Bella. Is she going to be alright?"  
He assumed this was Druella's youngest daughter, Narcissa. He had been told that she was a bright girl. But being only thirteen, he did not wish to traumatise the young thing.  
"Of course she'll be alright."  
The blonde girl knelt down beside her sister and kissed her forehead. She stood back up and then scurried back out of the room without a second look at Voldemort.  
Today the girls would be returning to school; to Hogwarts, the sanctum where he had found peace after a childhood of misery and pain. It felt like a lifetime ago since that tatty old hat was placed on his head and shouted "SLYTHERIN!", since he had first met his friends on the Hogwarts Express, since his first trip to Hogsmeade, since discovering the Chamber of Secrets… Bliss beyond words. A place where he could be free from worry, a place where he was accepted for who he was back then. Now he was feared by some of the greatest wizards alive.  
He wondered yet again, why Dumbledore had been at the battle. Who had informed the Aurors of their whereabouts? An unease rose inside of him. It had to have been one of his own. He had been betrayed by his own followers. The traitor would pay with their own blood.  
A small coughing noise roused him from his thoughts and he saw Bellatrix with her hand over her mouth, her head up from the pillows where she had rested. The rage which had been building inside him seemed to have vanished entirely as he saw her eyes flutter open.  
"You're awake!"  
Bellatrix grumbled, "Where are we? What—What happened to your face?"  
Voldemort smiled, touching his cheek where it was beginning to bruise, "We're at your parent's house. There was a fire, Bella. You were still asleep when it happened. I had to get you out-"  
"Where's Rodolphus?"  
His heart sank, after everything he had done, she wanted her husband, the man who had so carelessly left her upstairs to look at what was going on outside.  
"I don't know. I told them to come here. No one has arrived yet." He checked the clock on the wall. It was five o'clock in the morning, "You, my dear, should be going back to sleep. You're helping your parents take your sisters to school."  
He pressed a kiss on to her forehead and then swept out of the room, not before hearing Bellatrix call, "My Lord."  
He turned to look at her. She had propped herself up on the cushions and was staring at him with those sapphire eyes.  
"Thank you."  
He bowed his head and closed the door with a click and walked up the winding staircase to the west wing of the manor. This was where Bellatrix's parents and the guests slept. He could hear shouting quite far away and he walked quickly to the window looking over the rolling hills of countryside.  
"AURORS! BLOODY AURORS!"  
"I know! How the hell did they know where we were?"  
He breathed a sigh of relief. The Death Eaters had arrived, screeching with confusion at the attack on their master's home.  
"I don't know. Ask Rookwood. He works at the Ministry." Mulciber's voice sneered.  
"He's an Unspeakable, mate. No one will want 'out to do with him."  
"You're probably right, Rabastan." Dolohov said.  
"Doesn't help that the Dark Lord's house is a wreck now, like. Did you see the roof just—" Rabastan mimed something, though he couldn't see what it was from where he stood.  
"I know, mate, I know." Rodolphus nodded, "That's me widowed. Not that I care, dumb bitch. Better off without her."  
Voldemort's rage began to grow again, this time he could not hold it in. He marched down the stairs and out into the courtyard just as the Death Eaters approached.  
"Nice place." Rodolphus said.  
Voldemort sneered at him, "I heard what you said, Lestrange."  
"Yeah?" He shook back his shaggy brown hair, "And?"  
Voldemort snorted, "How dare you speak to me like that?"  
"Well the slut got what she deserved."  
There was a gasp that seemed to run around the Death Eaters like a sigh of wind.  
"Really?" Voldemort smiled, "Maybe you want to take a look in the living room, Lestrange."  
Rodolphus sneered, barging past Voldemort who seemed quite pleased with himself.  
"Rodolphus." He called. Though he could not see him, he knew that he had stopped.  
"Yeah?" He replied, his back turned towards his Master.  
"If you speak to me like that again, it will be the last thing you say." He said very softly. Rodolphus' foolish expression faltered and he stormed into the house. The Death Eaters chuckled amongst themselves. Dolohov lingered behind.  
"What is it, Antonin?"  
Dolohov took a deep breath, "Nothing, My Lord."  
Voldemort raised an eyebrow and then turned to go inside the house, where he heard Rodolphus' voice.  
"How could she have survived that?"  
"I saved your wife, Rodolphus."  
Rodolphus turned angrily, "You what?"  
Voldemort smirked, "I thought you would be happy. She's the only woman who will willingly sleep with you, after all. Then again, she only does it because she's married to you. She called you a, what was it now? Oh, that's right, a gorilla."  
Rodolphus' eyes widened and he flung himself at Voldemort, his fat hands flying in all directions.  
"You bastard!"  
Rodolphus dove on him and pinned him to the ground. The Death Eaters were shouting meaningless words, but all he could hear was himself and Rodolphus.  
His fists were crashing into his eyes, his cheeks, his jaw. He didn't move, didn't fight him off.  
"Your 'dumb bitch' of a wife gave me what I wanted. She loved every minute of it."  
Rodolphus roared and punched him again and again. Voldemort laughed madly.  
"She screamed for me. Has she screamed for you before? We were in your bed," He cackled, "We made love in your bed." He hissed the last words as Rodolphus punched his jaw. He could taste blood in his mouth.  
"YOU TWAT!" The Death Eaters were trying to rip Rodolphus off him now, but he was like an animal. Voldemort was still laughing.  
"She really was amazing, Rodolphus. I'm surprised you wanted her burnt to a crisp. Or is that how you like your women?"  
"My Lord, stop." Mulciber shouted.  
"No wonder Cygnus chose you to be her husband. He likes his women black and blue-"  
"ENOUGH!"  
The noise had woken Bellatrix up. Her black hair was wild, her eyes huge. The men stopped at once. Voldemort touched his bleeding lip.  
"Act like adults." She whispered, and she swept out of the room, pushing Voldemort out of her way with her shoulder. Voldemort glared at Rodolphus.  
"This isn't over," Rodolphus said, shaking his shaggy hair away from his face.  
"It can be over when I say it's over. Remember Rodolphus? I keep my word." Voldemort smirked, "Nott, do your worst."  
And as Rodolphus screamed in pain, Voldemort left the living room, following Bellatrix upstairs to her old bedroom where he knew she would be.

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**Hope you enjoyed that little brawl. Please leave a review telling me what you thought. They mean the world and keep me writing.  
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	10. Chapter 10

**Another late night chapter, hope you enjoy. Please leave a review telling me what you think so far.**

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"Bella?"  
"Go away!" Came a mumbled voice behind the door.  
Voldemort had his hand on the door handle.  
"I didn't-"  
"I don't care! Leave me alone."  
"Bella-"  
The door flew open revealing Bellatrix, whose face was an ugly blotchy red.  
"How dare you!"  
Voldemort furrowed his brow, "Excuse me?"  
Bellatrix narrowed her livid eyes, "How dare you talk about me like that!"  
Voldemort pushed passed Bellatrix and walked into her bedroom. It was a small, square room with a large window that dominated the far wall. There was a double bed that took up most of the room, and a jumble of handbags, jewellery, scarves and hats hanging from ornaments, mirrors and the curtain rail. The small bookcase was crammed full of books, some not even in English. A beaded curtain covered the wardrobe, which appeared not to have any doors. There were posters of bands plastered on the cream walls. They were all moving; some were playing their instruments, others were just posing.  
Voldemort turned to Bellatrix, "I would apologize, Bellatrix, but I needed to clear the air between myself and Rodolphus-"  
"By telling him we've slept together? Great job!" Bellatrix glowered, sitting down on her bed.  
"It wasn't my best move, I'll admit. But at least he knows now."  
Bellatrix laughed very loudly, "And along with how many others?! How many others will know of our affair?!"  
Voldemort rolled his eyes, "Are you ashamed of what we did?"  
Bellatrix shifted uncomfortably, "Well… No… But you know what-"  
"If you're not ashamed then why are you annoyed?"  
Bellatrix sighed, brushing her hair out of her face. She shrugged her shoulders.  
"I'll leave you to calm down. I'm going to arrange a meeting, I'll find out who told the Aurors where we were."  
"Is it wise for me attend?" She asked, pushing herself to her feet. She was only a few inches shorter than Voldemort. He had never noticed how tall she was before.  
"Don't fear them being uncouth. They know better than to antagonise Lord Voldemort, or his most faithful servant."  
Bellatrix's cheeks flushed with colour, "I'm your most faithful?"  
"Would I have taken you to bed if you weren't?" Voldemort replied, stroking Bellatrix's cheek, "You're a very beautiful woman, Bellatrix."  
Their eyes met for a moment. Bellatrix's blue eyes looked deeply into his red ones. The room seemed airless during that short space of time, and then it was over, but he continued to stroke her cheek with his thumb.  
"I shall hold the meeting in a few moments. I do hope you will join us."  
Bellatrix cupped Voldemort's hand with hers, "Of course, Master."  
He pushed her hand away and then walked to the door, "Remember to bring your wand with you. You will need it."

He opened the door, stepped out of the room and then closed it again, striding down the quiet hallway. He could, however, hear the whispering of the Death Eaters in the living room. No doubt they were talking about his fight with Rodolphus. He touched his jaw. A shooting pain traced his face. Rodolphus had caused some damage.  
"-can't believe it! I knew he had mistresses, but a Death Eater?"  
"She's hardly a Death Eater, Nott. She hasn't got the mark yet."  
Voldemort cleared his throat. The Death Eater's turned to look at him standing in the doorway.  
"My Lord!"  
Voldemort looked around the room. Rodolphus was grumbling in the corner.  
"Don't worry, Rodolphus. I haven't returned for another brawl. I don't wish to look like a prune."  
"Haven't come to apologise, though, have you?" Rodolphus sneered.  
Voldemort shook his head, "I have come to call you all to a meeting. Now everyone has arrived, there will be a meeting in the dining room. Follow me."  
The Death Eaters looked confused, and then as the chatter rose the looks of confusion on their faces vanished entirely. They understood that this was about the attack on the Dark Lord's home, and as they sat down he watched for any suspicious behaviour.  
Bellatrix appeared soon after the men had sat down. She took a seat next to her husband who folded his arms, refusing to look at his wife.  
"We are all aware of why we are here?"  
Their heads nodded in unison, and Voldemort took his seat at the head of the table.  
"Good, so I do not need to tell any of you that each and every one of you will be questioned regarding the attack."  
"Even her?" Rabastan Lestrange asked, pointing at his sister-in-law.  
Voldemort nodded, "Even Bellatrix." He stood up and raised his wand, "Now who should I ask first? Ah, Rookwood."  
He pointed his wand at the lank haired Rookwood, with his pockmarked face and sweaty hands.  
"My Lord?"  
"You work in the Department of Mysteries, do you not?"  
Rookwood smiled, nodding, "I do, My Lord. Yes I do."  
"So does this mean that you have regular contact with other departments?"  
Rookwood nodded again.  
"Did you, by any chance, inform an Auror of my whereabouts?"  
Rookwood's eyes widened as Voldemort circled the back of his chair with his wand.  
"No, My Lord."  
"Are you sure?" His voice was quiet and silky as his wand twitched slightly in his hand.  
Rookwood nodded very quickly, "I swear, My Lord, I didn't."  
Voldemort's face twisted into something like a smile, and he lowered his wand.  
He did this for everyone around the table, he taunted them with his wand and then when they told him no, he left them. Bellatrix's brow furrowed as he reached her.  
"Now, Bellatrix. You're the only one left. Everyone else has denied any involvement in aiding the Aurors. What do you think?"  
Bellatrix looked confused, "My Lord, I—"  
Voldemort waved his hand, "Do you think one of them is lying? Or do you know something?"  
"Know what?"  
The other men inhaled a sharp intake of breath and then-  
"CRUCIO!"  
Bellatrix gripped the seat of her chair, fighting back a scream as the waves of agonising pain swept through her like magma scorching her flesh. Her bones were on fire.

And then they were doused. The pain was gone.  
"That hurt, didn't it, Bella?" Voldemort asked, kneeling down beside her. He watched a small tear escape from the corner of her eye, "Yet you didn't scream like a coward. You held it in. I admire that."  
He stood up again, looking at each of his followers; Lance Rosier, a man with short black hair and a face like a bulldog, sat next to Dolohov. He had a wide smile on his face.  
"What's so funny, Rosier?"  
Rosier's face straightened at once, "Nothing, My Lord."  
"Do_ you_ know something about the attack that you didn't tell me?"  
He shook his head quickly, "I would have told you."  
"Are you sure?" He raised his wand at him, red sparks flickered at the end of it; a Cruciatus Curse waiting to happen.  
"I—"  
"Don't stammer. That's what liars do!" Voldemort laughed.  
Lance Rosier looked into his lap. He whispered something.  
"What was that?" Voldemort called.  
"I may have told someone at Bellatrix's wedding about where the Death Eaters were staying."  
The men gasped again. Voldemort, on the other hand, did not seem shocked.  
"Being her uncle, of course, made you eligible to attend the wedding in the first place."  
He nodded, "Exactly. I may have gotten a bit tipsy and may have told some of the guests that we were staying at-"  
"My home." Voldemort whispered.  
Rosier nodded.  
Voldemort smiled, and then laughed callously to himself. He raised his wand, and there was a flash of green light. Rosier collapsed in his chair, his head hit the mahogany table.  
"Let that be a lesson to all of you." He said, pushing Rosier's corpse out of the chair, "If you betray Lord Voldemort, you will be killed."  
Bellatrix fidgeted in her seat. Her face was very pale.  
"Ah yes. As you all know, Bellatrix has been trained quite thoroughly in the dark arts. She has proven herself as a Death Eater, in my eyes. I wish to welcome her to the inner circle."  
There was no applause for her. The men looked at her, and then away again. Voldemort beckoned her towards him. He forced her on her knees in front of him and then dragged up the left sleeve of her dark purple robes.  
He pushed his wand into her flesh. She hissed in pain as her skin began to burn. There was smoke rising from her forearm.  
"Do not cry out, Bella. It will only make things worse."  
Voldemort watched her arm. There was blood trickling from where his wand was.  
"Rise, girl."  
Bellatrix rose to her feet, Voldemort removed his wand from her skin. She looked at it and then yelled out. A skull with a snake protruding from its mouth had formed on her skin.  
"May your loyalty never waver, Bellatrix."  
"Of course, My Lord."

And with that the meeting was over. Bellatrix was escorted upstairs by her husband who didn't look at all happy. Voldemort followed soon after, heading towards one of the guest rooms. The sun was pouring in through the window in the bedroom. He looked at the clock above the bed. It was seven o'clock. He should have been waking up had it been a normal day. He doubted any of the Death Eaters would be awake right now.  
He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his robes and climbed into the warm bed. The pillow was soft beneath his cheek as he rolled over, looking out over the peaceful horizon. He shut his eyes for a moment, and then heard a floorboard behind him creak.

Bellatrix was stood behind him. She was completely naked. Voldemort climbed out of the bed, grabbed her by the shoulders and pinned her against the wall.  
"What are you doing, silly girl?"  
She smiled seductively at him, "What do you think?" She purred.  
She leant in to kiss him but Voldemort slapped her away. She yelped in pain, but this did not stop her.  
Bellatrix nuzzled his chest. Her hair felt good against his skin. It smelt beautiful; like apples.  
She nibbled his neck and then began to move further down his body until she reached-  
He gasped sharply as she tugged at his briefs.  
"Bella." He moaned. He looked down at her impish face, that mischievous glint in her eye told him what she was thinking. He smiled at her, walking towards the bed and lying down. He pulled down his briefs.  
Bellatrix made a cooing noise and climbed into bed beside him.

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Rodolphus rolled over in Bellatrix's old bed. His head was nuzzled into a neck that wasn't there, his hand resting on a waist that was being groped by another man. He snored as he slept, kissing the deserted pillow where his wife's cheek should have been.

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****Hope you enjoyed the latest installment of Prelude and I'll see you in the next chapter!**


	11. Chapter 11

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, please leave a big ol' review when you're done telling me what you thought. They mean the absolute world to me.**

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Two hours later, Voldemort climbed out of bed. Bellatrix had a huge grin on her face as she lay sprawled on the crumpled sheets, breathless. He fished through the wardrobe next to the bed for a set of black robes, but he could only see navy, green and maroon robes.  
"Green it is." He whispered, slipping into the slim fitting outfit. He slipped his feet into his shoes and then turned to Bellatrix.  
"I'm going to have to go back to my room." She said quietly, picking up the blanket that had been kicked off the bed and wrapping it around herself.  
Voldemort smiled. She wouldn't be able to go unseen, it was now nine o'clock. Any Death Eaters who had managed to get a wink of sleep would surely be awake by now. He chuckled at the thought of Bellatrix skulking in the shadows, trying to hide from his followers as she snuck back to her room.  
Voldemort looked at Bellatrix's back as she gathered the blanket so she didn't stumble as she made her way back to her husband.  
"I need to get myself dressed if I'm taking Andromeda and Narcissa to the Hogwarts Express."  
Voldemort nodded, watching as Bellatrix opened the door quietly. She walked out of the room, leaving the door open.

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She was careful not to stand on the loose floorboards that she had learnt to avoid so well as a child. There was the one just by the bathroom door, the one near the staircase… Her heart was racing. She pulled the blanket up just as she felt a cold rush of air against her bare shoulders. They were very common in this house. Her father said that the country house was once owned by muggles who tried to exorcise the ghosts that occupied it. They had failed miserably, leaving the ghosts just as invisible to wizards as they are to muggles.  
She was finally at her bedroom door which was ajar. She peered through the gap, Rodolphus was still asleep. She breathed a sigh of relief. She pushed the door open carefully; she remembered how the hinges would creak sometimes. She tip toed across the room, avoiding the hanging lights on the ceiling, and dropped the blanket as she climbed into bed with Rodolphus. She kissed his neck and she heard him groan in his sleep.  
"Bell?"  
She smiled into his ear as she ruffled his hair. He rolled over and looked at her.  
"What time is it?"  
Bellatrix's smile broadened, "Time you got out of bed-"  
"Why would I want to get out of bed when I have a gorgeous naked woman next to me?"  
Rodolphus kissed Bellatrix's lips softly and then he yawned, climbing out of bed. He threw on a set of crumpled grey robes and then began brushing his mane of hair. Bellatrix began circling her finger on the pillow where he had lain.  
"Is what he said true, Bella?" Rodolphus asked, looking at her through the reflection in the mirror. Bellatrix looked confused.  
"Is what who said true?"  
"The Dark Lord, was he telling the truth about you and him… You and him having sex in our bed?"  
Bellatrix sighed, "Of course it's true." She allowed a smirk to play on the corner of her lips. Her eyes twinkled slightly as she remembered how it had felt to have him on top of her; stroking her hair, looking deeply into her eyes…  
Rodolphus' happy demeanour had gone. His face was a brilliant scarlet, but he held back his temptation as he felt the weight of the paddled hairbrush in his hand.  
"Why?"  
Bellatrix shrugged, she honestly didn't know why she had slept with the Dark Lord. Her stomach flipped over. That feeling again…  
"He didn't force you to do it?"  
Bellatrix looked up at him, her blue eyes meeting his reflection, "Is that what you want to hear, Rod?"  
Rodolphus smiled slightly and then turned to look at his wife, "It would make me feel better for beating seven shades of shit out of the bloke."  
Bellatrix's smirk grew wider. She knew what the Dark Lord would say, _'It wasn'__t an attack, I threw myself at the girl and she loved every moment of our encounter.'__  
_She chuckled as she heard the Dark Lord's voice in her head.  
"Can't believe he killed Rosier. Rosier had been with him since the beginning. Good job Evan wasn't there or he might've been in the firing line as well."  
Bellatrix climbed out of the bed, convinced that her husband would not pounce on her, with his hairy back and woolly chest. She shuddered.  
She picked a black robe out of the wardrobe and pulled it over her naked body.  
"So he attacked you then, the Dark Lord?"  
Bellatrix smiled. She would enjoy winding Rodolphus up. She shook her head, "I gave myself willingly to him. After all I am his now."  
Rodolphus narrowed his piggy eyes, "So he wasn't lying…" Rodolphus patted the hair brush against his palm, "He was right about my wife being a slut. He was right about her being nothing than a whore. Let me ask, how many times have you spent the night in his bed?"  
Bellatrix blinked, "How dare you-"  
"ANSWER ME, BELLATRIX!" He raised the paddle brush in the air.  
"Twice; last night and just now—"  
Rodolphus roared in fury and grabbed Bellatrix by the throat, pinning her against the wall. He slapped the paddle brush against her flesh and she yelled out as again and again plastic collided with her skin.  
"You deserve this. You deserve this pain, don't you? You bad little whore," He threw her on the floor and he climbed on top of her. She tried to push him away and she screamed and punched his chest, digging her fingernails into his clavicle. He pinned her down by the neck and spat on her face, "You're a disgusting little slut, Bellatrix."  
"Rodolphus, don't do this. This isn't you-"  
"But it's him, isn't it, Bella? You want him but you don't want me. What if I was more like him, hmm? What if I caused you the pain he's caused me?"  
He slapped her thigh as she writhed on the floor trying to get away, she twisted herself around. He slapped her backside with the paddle brush. She fell to the floor. Rodolphus climbed on top of her again, pushing up her robes and undoing his own.

* * *

"She's taking a long time, isn't she?" Andromeda muttered, looking at her watch.  
"That's Bella for you. She makes everyone late so she can look even more gorgeous- Ah, Rodolphus, where's your wife?" Cygnus asked, chuckling.  
Rodolphus appeared with a set of grey creased robes on. Voldemort raised an eyebrow.  
"I'd love to know myself, Cygnus. Maybe she's still in the bathroom getting ready." Cygnus and Rodolphus laughed, but Voldemort did not see what was so funny. He knew Bellatrix quite well, and he knew that she was not the type of woman who would spend hours on her makeup and hair. They had been waiting for a good half an hour now.  
"Darling, why don't you go and give her a shout?" Druella asked Andromeda, who had her brown hair in a ponytail.  
The girl nodded, running up the stairs in front of them.  
"Maybe we should go without Bella. It's not like she's the one going to school." Narcissa grumbled.  
"What? Worried you won't see your _boyfriend_?" Teased a dark haired boy Voldemort had no trouble in recognising as Sirius Black, the son of Orion and Walburga Black, the boy who had been at the party a few weeks before.  
This was his first year at Hogwarts, and Voldemort knew he would fit right in at the school.  
Andromeda was walking back downstairs again, "All quiet, she probably went back to sleep. I guess she isn't coming with us."  
"I guess not. Are you still coming, Rodolphus? It would be nice to have some male company."  
Rodolphus smiled, glowering at Voldemort.  
The family left soon after; Cygnus and Rodolphus were discussing Quidditch, Andromeda and Sirius were talking about the sorting ceremony but Narcissa and her mother were silent as they walked through the great wooden door.  
When he was sure that the family was gone, he headed upstairs to Bellatrix's room. He knocked quietly at first, and with each attempt getting louder until he was hammering on the door. There was no response.  
"Bellatrix!" He shouted, "Open the door!"  
There was silence behind the door and he turned the handle angrily revealing the empty bedroom. Bellatrix was nowhere to be seen.  
"Bella!" He shouted.  
He heard a groan from the bottom of the bed and he walked urgently towards it. He saw Bellatrix on the floor, her face was red and sore looking. And then his eyes moved slowly down her body, towards the blood that was trickling down her inner thigh.  
"DID HE DO THIS TO YOU?" Voldemort roared. Bellatrix wheezed and nodded. Voldemort screamed ferociously and marched out of the bedroom. He punched the wall in the hallway before he walked down towards the living room to await the return of the family and Lestrange... Rodolphus Lestrange... He would suffer his retribution when he arrived home.

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	12. Chapter 12

**As always, hope you enjoy. Please leave an ol' review telling me what you think!**

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Voldemort stood by the front door of Black Manor, watching the clock. It turned eleven as he glared at it, listening to the monotonous ticking noise.  
_Tick__  
Tock__  
Tick__  
_There was a popping noise outside and then the sound of loud conversation. Footsteps were echoing on the stone floor outside the front door, which opened. Rodolphus was chuckling at something Druella had said as Cygnus and his wife walked through the door.  
"Ah, My Lord-"  
"You have a nerve." Voldemort sneered, watching as Rodolphus crossed the threshold.  
"What?"  
"YOU RAPED HER!" Voldemort screamed, grabbing Rodolphus by the neck as he closed the door.  
"What are you on about?" Rodolphus laughed, trying to open Voldemort's fist around his throat, which was like a vice grip.  
"I found Bellatrix upstairs covered in bruises and blood, barely alive."  
Druella gasped, letting out a dry sob, "Tell me this isn't true, Rodolphus."  
Rodolphus smiled, looking at Voldemort. He could see the glimmer of loathing in those empty eyes.  
"I didn't attack her, My Lord." He hissed, grabbing Voldemort's wrist which was still tightly wrapped around his muscular throat, "She likes it rough." He snarled as Voldemort let him down. They continued glaring at each other, like lions ready to kill.  
"I'll take your word for that, Rodolphus." Cygnus smiled, "Druella's the same, must run in the blood." He stroked his wife's blonde hair, but Druella knocked his hand away.  
"Don't touch me." She whispered, staring angrily at Rodolphus.  
Voldemort watched as Rodolphus walked upstairs, pulling his cloak off and placing it on the banister. He turned back to Druella and Cygnus.  
"You may believe him, Cygnus, but I don't." Druella muttered, behind the hand that covered her quivering lips.  
Cygnus laughed, "You really are an idiot, woman."  
Voldemort raised an eyebrow at Cygnus and made his way upstairs, following Rodolphus. He walked up to Bellatrix's old room and peered through the door.  
"YOU DARE!" Voldemort roared, seeing Rodolphus unbuttoning his trousers, "If you're thinking about going in for round two then you're mistaken."  
Rodolphus looked up at him, stunned. Bellatrix was still in a heap on the floor, apparently unable to move.  
"What're you—"  
"I'm not going to let you harm Bellatrix again! I've seen Druella beaten to a pulp too many times to stand aside and let it happen to her child." And with that Voldemort scooped the unconscious form of Bellatrix up in his arms, much like he had a few hours before, and carried her away from her husband, who buttoned up his trousers and followed them down the hall.  
"More like your little whore." Rodolphus snapped as Voldemort stepped into the guest room, placing Bellatrix gently on the bed.  
Voldemort turned to Rodolphus, his eyes wide and livid. Rodolphus realised what he had done and cowered out of the room. Voldemort's nostrils flared and then he turned back to Bellatrix. Her face was more bruised than it had been when he'd left her.  
"Now we match," He laughed, stroking his cheek and jaw where Rodolphus had punched him before.  
He took his wand out of his robes and waved it a few times in the air, whispering small incantations. With each spell, Bellatrix's injuries appeared to lessen; the bleeding between her legs and around her lips seemed to stop and the bruising around her cheeks appeared less purple.  
Bellatrix stirred and her puffy eyes opened slowly; they were very red and very swollen. For a moment she was oblivious to what had happened, but then she began to sob and grabbed Voldemort's robes, crying into his chest. He stroked her hair with his free hand and hushed her gently, though she continued crying silently.  
"He can't hurt you while I'm here, Bellatrix." He soothed her. She coughed as she cried.

There was a knock at the door. Voldemort turned. It was Druella. She looked just as upset as her daughter, and stood in the doorway. She covered her mouth with one hand, wiping away her hot tears with the other. She seemed unable to speak as she watched her eldest daughter, a shadow of her former self, broken by the man who should have loved her. He understood how Druella felt. She was reliving the pain that she had gone through after she'd had Narcissa. That's when the beatings had started, she had said. Cygnus blamed her for "her inability to have sons".  
He hadn't been there for Druella; too busy building his army, too busy creating his anchors to immortality. And Druella had been shattered by her husband's anger, destroyed. If he had been there…  
The front of his robes was wet with tears now. Bellatrix was rocking as she cried into his chest. Druella sobbed loudly, finally able to approach her daughter. She wrapped her arms around the dark haired girl, kissing her forehead.  
"What has he done to my baby girl?" She whispered through a sob, her face red and puffy, pulling Bellatrix into an embrace. Bellatrix let out a loud sob, and Voldemort let go of her, backing away out of the room.

He was boiling with rage. He could quite easily have killed Rodolphus for what he had done. He remembered how he had laughed about it, how he had bragged, though he, Lord Voldemort, was not innocent of such a heinous crime. He had nearly attacked Bellatrix in the attic of his former home; he had killed a woman in Knockturn Alley. The girl had been terrified, but he never thought for a moment that Bellatrix would let anyone hurt her the way Rodolphus had. He marched down the stairs and out of the front door, into the garden where the fountain played. Voldemort walked quickly towards the boundary wall and then apparated with a very loud pop.

The ruins of the house were scorched black. Through the rubble he could see the bodies of men; some were his own, others were nameless, worthless Aurors. Not one thing was recognisable as he walked over broken glass and smashed bricks. He could hardly believe that a house had been stood here only a day before.  
The sun appeared from behind a cloud, shining astonishingly brightly. And out of the corner of his eye, he saw a gleam of shimmering gold.  
He waved his wand, and smiled as the cup rose out of the rubble serenely, unscathed by the blaze. He caught it, putting it in the front pocket of his robes. If this was unharmed, then his other horcruxes wouldn't have been destroyed.  
A black leather book flew from beneath the limp body of an Auror. And a small golden locket flew at him from beneath one of the bricks. He grabbed his other horcruxes and put them in another pocket within his robes.

"So you came back… I thought you would." Said a voice from behind him.  
Voldemort spun on his heels looking into a set of bright blue eyes that peered at him through a pair of half-moon spectacles that sat on a crooked nose.  
"Dumbledore. I only returned for my belongings."  
"Peculiar belongings to return to the ruins of your home for, may I say Tom? If one was to return to the rubble of their house, I would expect them to return for clothing, but not trinkets."  
Voldemort smirked, "Peculiar indeed, unless you know what they are. These aren't just trinkets, Dumbledore."  
Dumbledore examined him over the top of his spectacles, "I have an idea as to their true purpose to you, Tom."  
Voldemort stepped off the rubble of the house and drew his wand, "You are as omniscient as ever, though I highly doubt that you know what purpose these treasures have."  
Dumbledore smiled, "I may be old, Tom, but I'm not a fool. Remember that." Dumbledore gave him a final exploratory look, "I must return to my school, my sherbet lemons will be getting sticky."  
And with that Dumbledore disapparated silently. Voldemort blinked. He wasn't sure whether the old man had been there, or whether he had just been a hallucination.

He returned to Bellatrix's parents and made his way into the living room. His Death Eaters were nowhere to be seen; Rodolphus hadn't reared his ugly head since their encounter in his bedroom. Druella was upstairs with Bellatrix, who had fallen asleep in her arms.  
Voldemort sat reading the evening paper, which had arrived earlier than normal, and whose headline spoke of the battle that had taken place the night before. A list of the dead glared at him from beneath a picture of Albus Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling. He threw the paper down on the coffee table and folded his arms across his chest.  
He couldn't help but blame himself for what had happened to Bellatrix. He didn't feel anything romantically for the girl, but he felt compelled to protect her as she was his most faithful. He knew that. Her loyalty was unwavering.

There was an exhale of breath behind him, he turned in his seat. Bellatrix had woken up.  
"Room for a small one?" She croaked, forcing a smile. Voldemort waved for her to sit down, and she took a seat beside him.  
"I hope you're feeling better, Bellatrix."  
She shrugged, leaning back on the sofa, "Time will never change what happened, I'm just going to have to come to terms with it and move on."  
Voldemort smiled, "Very brave of you," His expression faltered, "But if you're expecting to sleep with me tonight-"  
Bellatrix shook her head, "No, My Lord. I'm actually not feeling very well."  
Voldemort raised an eyebrow. He leaned in slightly, listening intently. Bellatrix smiled for the first time since Rodolphus had attacked her, enjoying her captive audience.  
"It's nothing special, just some nausea."  
Voldemort rolled his eyes, "Just a side effect to all the stress. Don't be too worried."  
Bellatrix sighed very deeply, "I'm not so sure…"

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**Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review telling me what you thought of this chapter, and any of the chapters before if you want! Feel free to PM me with any of your questions! Have a great day!  
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	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry about the delayed update. I really hope you enjoy this chapter, please leave a review!**

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Three weeks had passed. The leaves on the trees had turned red and gold and the air had become colder. Rodolphus had been punished for attacking Bellatrix; he had been tortured and beaten by the Death Eaters. Voldemort would have done it himself, but he feared he would have killed him. And although he despised the man, he didn't want one of his more powerful followers to be dead. Bellatrix had recovered from the attack but was still complaining about feeling ill.  
"Maybe you should see a healer," Her mother suggested over breakfast.  
Bellatrix shook her head, reaching over to grab a slice of toast, "I know what it is, mother and there is no need to go to a healer."  
Voldemort buttered a scone as he listened in on the conversation, pretending to read his morning paper.  
"Honestly Bella, I don't know what's gotten into you lately." Druella muttered, drinking a mouthful of tea, "You can't make your mind up about anything."  
Bellatrix let out a heavy sigh, "Mother, don't worry-"  
Druella furrowed her brow, "I know what happened to you was terrible, but you can't let it ruin your life-"  
"Will you be quiet?" Bellatrix snapped, "I'm sick of you always nagging me!"  
Druella looked shocked at Bellatrix's sudden outburst, "What is your problem?"  
Bellatrix groaned, standing up and leaving the room. Druella turned to Voldemort.  
"Has she told you anything about why she's being like this, My Lord?"  
Voldemort took a bite of his scone, shaking his head, "No she hasn't. I'm gathering that what happened to her has traumatised her, as you can understand, and this is her way of coping."  
Druella shook her head, "I think there's something more. She's not been well, she's grouchy…"  
Voldemort took another bite of his scone, "Stress, Druella. She's stressed!"  
Druella rolled her eyes and stood up, picking up her daughter's plate and her own, "I really should get another house elf. The amount of housework I'm doing is unbelievable, My Lord."  
She walked through the door into the kitchen, leaving Voldemort alone in the vast dining room.  
The wide windows filled the room with a brilliant sunlight, and they had an amazing view looking over the fields behind the house where he could see wild rabbits running across the many acres of land.

He stood up, leaving through the door behind him and stepping into the entrance hall where a crowd of Death Eaters stood laughing.  
"What is this?" Voldemort asked, and although his voice was quiet it carried clearly through their catcalls and jeers.  
The Death Eater in front of him, Thorfinn Rowle, a large man with short blond hair, turned, "We've captured an Auror, My Lord!"  
"Really? Well congratulations, but which Auror might you have caught at such an early hour?"  
Rowle stopped. He looked down at the man in the middle of the crowd of Death Eaters, who was pale and shaking, and then at his companions, "Who is this bloke, anyway?"  
Amycus Carrow shrugged his sloping shoulders, "I think he's called Podmore."  
"Please! I beg of you—"  
Voldemort stepped in front of the cowering man, "Well Podmore, I know of your heritage. You're of modest stock, are you not, Mudblood?"  
The Death Eaters began to roar like an angry crowd, booing and hissing. They began chanting "Mudblood" at the man.  
The man nodded his head, "Please, I'll do anything! I have a wife and family-"  
"Lord Voldemort does not protect filth like you. You should know that, Mudblood." He turned to his followers, "Dispose of this vermin."  
He moved away from the crowd of Death Eaters who were still chanting, but were moving closer to the man who screamed. Voldemort began walking up the stairs, but a pain shooting up his spine made him freeze. His face was sore, his scalp burning.  
"It's time, I think." He muttered, walking carefully towards his bedroom. The pain running through his spine was beginning to go down his legs. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror opposite the staircase, his face looked burned and blurred, an echo of his former self; Tom Riddle. He was not yet the man he knew he would become. The effects his horcruxes would have on him had been delayed.  
He opened his bedroom door and found Bellatrix sat on his bed.  
"Bella—I…"  
"I need to talk to you, My Lord." She hissed, standing up to face him.  
"I'm otherwise occupied at the moment, Bellatrix."  
Bellatrix noticed that he was limping, "Are you alright, My Lord?"  
Voldemort began to move his way to the wardrobe, unpacking it and placing his belongings, including his horcruxes, in a small leather suitcase, "Of course I am."  
Bellatrix eased off, "It's very important, My Lord. I need to tell you _now_."  
Voldemort rolled his eyes, folding up a set of robes and placing them inside the suitcase which he had opened up on his bed.  
"Recently I have been having certain feelings towards you. I think you're funny, smart, attractive."  
Voldemort looked up at her.  
"And," Bellatrix continued, "I know you feel the same way about me."  
Voldemort smiled, "Bella, I-"  
"My Lord, I love you."  
Her eyes were wide, twinkling in the sunlight that poured in through the bedroom window.  
"No one has bothered to tell you, have they?" Voldemort smirked.  
"Tell me what?" Bellatrix whispered, attempting to sound seductive. Her attempts were falling on deaf ears.  
"You foolish girl!" Voldemort shouted. The sudden outburst made Bellatrix jump, "I will never love you! You're an idiot for ever thinking otherwise," He picked up his suitcase, pushing Bellatrix out of the way.  
"My Lord, where are you-"  
"To Albania, Bellatrix. I won't be back for some time. Hopefully you're…Infatuation will have ceased by then."  
Bellatrix followed him out of his bedroom, her eyes were filling with tears, "My Lord, please!" She grabbed his hand, "You're telling me what happened between us meant nothing to you?"  
"We slept together, Bellatrix!" He snapped, "I desired you, that was all!"  
He pushed her hand away, lifting his suitcase and walking quickly down the stairs. Bellatrix was sobbing as she followed him.  
"Please don't leave like this."  
He shook his head, "If you think your pleading will make me change my ways, then you are wrong." He opened the front door, and was gone in a heartbeat, marching across the stone path.  
Bellatrix collapsed in the doorway, grasping her stomach. Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she sobbed harder and harder, resting her head against the open door.

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	14. Chapter 14

**In advance, the dialogue that is in italics is spoken in Albanian. Yes, my Voldemort can speak Albanian!**  
**Hope you enjoy this chapter, please leave a review!**

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He apparated a few miles outside of the city, Shkodër, a quiet place with dense woodland. He stood outside of a pub, translated in English the name read "_The Hawk and Sparrow_". A couple walked passed him; the woman with flowing black hair, the man tall and handsome. The woman sneered at him as her partner held her close, reassuring her in Albanian.  
Voldemort dragged his suitcase towards the cluster of trees just outside of the pub and drew his wand. When he was sure that no one could see him, he made the suitcase levitate by his side as he made his way into the thickening forest.

The night grew quicker than he had expected. Dogs were beginning to howl at the brilliant moon which had appeared quite suddenly in the dark blue sky. Every creak of a tree in the breeze put him on edge, the scurrying of a wild animal… Why did he suspect anything? He was powerful enough to destroy any man who attempted to harm him, not that they would. He was Lord Voldemort. If any man did attack him, they would be dead before they could draw their wand.

He stopped by a large willow tree, whose limbs were long and slender. He dropped his suitcase on the dry ground in front of it, hearing the grass crunching beneath the wheels. His long fingers traced the blood stains on the tree bark. He remembered how they had gotten there, and he smirked. That was his more recent transformation. This would surely be his last transformation; he would finally become the creature he knew he would.

There was a terrible cracking noise and his legs buckled. He screamed in pain, grasping the ground for something, anything. He could feel his insides boiling. Sweat began trickling down his back which felt like it was on fire. The skin on his hands was peeling; blood began oozing out of the wounds which formed. His face cracked as he grimaced in absolute agony. He roared, his back arching like a beast. He ripped off his robes, which were soaked crimson. The skin on his face began shedding just as his hands did. He could not see through the pain, his eyes were bleeding. His body felt like it was burning. What was left of his skin grew tighter and tighter until that too peeled, revealing nothing but muscle. He looked like a monstrosity, rolling on the ground like a man possessed, skinless.

And then it was over. He could not move, could not feel, could not breathe.

After what felt like an age, his eyes opened. It was daylight. He pushed himself up off the grass, which was drenched in his blood. He walked carefully passed a large oak tree, and knelt down by a deep lake which bordered the next city. He touched his face, or what was left of it. He could see every muscle in his face; every bone, every nerve.  
His eyes were now wide and a livid red; his pupils were slits like a cat's. He touched the surface of the water. It was cold against his burning muscles, which had become scarred and bruised since the night before.  
He made his way back to his belongings and sat down on what was left of his shredded robes. He could see flakes of skin everywhere. They had grown yellowish overnight. As grotesque as the process was, he knew he would not regret it at the end.

The next night approached quickly. He lay on the floor again, screaming beneath the brilliant white moonlight. His bones were growing; breaking, reforming. He vomited with the pain, his eyes streamed, tears stinging his bare cheek muscles.

The next morning he went through the same routine; waking up drenched in his own blood, looking at his new appearance in the lake. He wrapped a set of spare robes around himself and sat beneath the towering willow tree, waiting for nightfall to arrive.

He was pounding the ground during the next night, shrieking for the pain to be over. Blood spurted out of the gaps between his bones as they closed, forming a newer, stronger skeleton. He screeched during the next night as his muscle grew, pulsing. His veins burned, his body arching in pain once more as every muscle went into spasm as they grew stronger and stronger; night after night. Until finally, during a bitter winter night, the first layer of skin began to grow back. It was as pale as the snow that surrounded him, as smooth as the ice that had settled on the lake where he would check his reflection every morning.

After what felt like a lifetime, he was finally ready to return to Black Manor. He was no longer an echo of his former self, his face was no longer burned and blurred. He was taller, skeletally thin, with gleaming red eyes whose pupils were vertical. His face was flat like a serpent, his hands like oversized spiders, his skin pearl white and completely hairless.  
He stood up from the lakeside and dusted down his black robes. He picked up his wand and suitcase, shrinking the suitcase down so that it would fit into his pocket, and then began walking quietly towards the nearby town.  
He pulled up his hood as he walked out of the forest which had become his home for the past five months; he had gone through the bitter winter, the utter pain which threatened to make him collapse. It was over, there would be no more change. He was finally immortal.

He walked into the Hawk and Sparrow pub which he had spotted upon his arrival in Albania and looked around. No one would notice a hooded figure such as himself in such a dirty environment.  
He felt for the wand in his pocket, relieved when his long finger touched the tip. For a moment he thought he had left it in the forest.  
He sat at the bar, looking at the bar tender. He ordered a glass of water and sipped it gently, waiting.

He stroked the wand gently in his pocket as he drank, watching the people around him. They seemed to be drunk or oblivious to the serpentine man amongst them.  
Placing the empty glass down gently, he began walking out of the pub when-  
"_Are you not paying for that, my friend?_" The barman asked. Voldemort smirked, drawing his wand. The barman laughed, "_You're threatening me with a stick?_"  
"_This, foolish muggle, is not a stick_." Voldemort hissed, his voice higher and colder than it had been before his transformation, "_No, it is so much more_." He threw a curse at the barman who threw himself out of the way as the flash of green light headed towards him. The men in the pub began flying around, looking for some kind of cover.  
"_What are you?_" A man hiding beneath a barstool asked. Voldemort kicked the stool aside and laughed mirthlessly.  
"_I am the greatest creature alive; I am Lord Voldemort_." He twirled his wand in his fingers and threw a killing curse at the man who fell to the ground, dead. He had a look of complete horror on his face as his body landed on the cold stone floor. Voldemort threw another curse at a man who had hidden behind a pillar, he too collapsed. Now the barman was the only man left. He had hidden beneath the counter, Voldemort laughed as he saw the man's hunched back.  
"_Come out, coward._"  
"_Djall!_"  
"_You call me a devil?_" Voldemort laughed, stroking his wand against the bar counter, "_Do not preach such insolent ideals in my presence, Muggle._"  
Another jet of green light was thrown at the bartender, who fell with a thud to the ground.  
Voldemort cackled as he left the pub, "Morsmordre!" He shouted. Smoke issued from the tip of his wand, billowing into the sky, forming the shape of a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth.

He apparated silently, appearing by the boundary wall of Black Manor. It hadn't changed. It was just as beautiful as when he had left. He placed his wand back into his robes and began walking towards the manor house.  
He was looking forward to revealing his new appearance to his followers. It had been far too long; five months felt like a lifetime. Would they even recognise him? He knocked at the wooden door, taking his suitcase out of his pocket and restoring it to its original size.  
The door opened.  
"May I come in?"  
"Of course you can, My Lord," said an all too familiar voice.  
He looked at the woman before him; tall with thick shining black hair, heavily hooded eyes and a strong jaw, and a rather large bump protruding from beneath her shirt. Voldemort's red eyes widened in shock.

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**And in walks the Voldemort we all know and love!**  
**Hope you enjoyed this chapter, please leave me a review telling me what you thought! They mean the absolute world and keep me writing! If you have any questions, PM me and I'll get back to you as soon as I can! Hope you have a great day!**


	15. Chapter 15

"You're…"  
Bellatrix smiled at him, stroking her swollen stomach, "Pregnant."  
Voldemort's eyes widened even more, "Is it-?"  
The woman before him beamed, shaking her head. She picked up his suitcase and carried it inside. He followed her in, watching her struggling to bend.  
"The child is Rodolphus' then?" Voldemort asked, looking at Bellatrix who was rubbing her back.  
She nodded, "He's been really supportive, considering everything that has happened."  
Voldemort breathed a sigh of relief, then walked with Bellatrix up the stairs towards his bedroom, lifting his luggage as he went.  
"In what way has he been supportive? As far as I recall, the man left you for dead. Now you're having his child?"  
Bellatrix smirked, "He's changed, My Lord."  
Voldemort chuckled, "You really are as foolish as when I left."  
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow, opening his bedroom door for him. He placed his suitcase by the door and walked over to the bed, sitting down and rubbing his neck.  
"If you think I'm sleeping with you then you've got the wrong idea, My Lord."  
Voldemort laughed again, but this time his voice was filled with anger, "I didn't expect you to Bellatrix. Not in your… condition."  
"I was thinking more like I'm now in a loving and committed relationship, but what you said works too."  
Her pregnancy had made Bellatrix snappier. Voldemort understood now what Druella meant the day he had left to go to Albania. Bellatrix had been pregnant when he had left, which explained her shorter fuse, though her irritability was making Voldemort impatient.  
"Do you know what you're having?" Voldemort asked, attempting to sound interested.  
Bellatrix shook her head, "No. Rodolphus wants it to be a surprise."  
Voldemort rolled his eyes, standing up. He walked passed Bellatrix, "I'm going to call a meeting, I need to let the others know I've returned."  
Bellatrix nodded, following him out of the room to go to her own bedroom. Voldemort walked down the staircase to be greeted by Druella.  
"My Lord, have you seen Bella?"  
Voldemort nodded impatiently, "I really don't have time-"  
"It's fantastic, isn't it? I'm going to have a grandchild, I think it's going to be a boy. I'm so proud of her!"  
Voldemort smiled mechanically, trying to get passed Druella. When he finally got away from her he walked into the dining room, which had become the host for their meetings. He traced his fingers across the backs of the ornately carved chairs which stood tucked beneath the grand table. He made his way to the head of the table, where there stood a proud looking seat that looked more like a throne than a dining chair. His pulled it out from beneath the table and sat down, stroking the leather-clad arms.

"You're back."  
The voice echoed through the empty room and Voldemort looked up. The man stood in the doorway had slicked back brown hair that was cropped up to his ears, with a stubbly chin and a thickset frame.  
"Bella was pining for you for a while after you left," said Rodolphus, walking towards Voldemort, "Yeah… She really missed you. Until she found out she was pregnant with _my_ baby."  
"Did she? Well, I didn't expect anything else," Voldemort sneered, "Nice to know you've made yourself more presentable, by the way, Rodolphus. You wouldn't want the hospital staff thinking you're a tramp when your baby's being born, now, would you? You know what their like about hygiene, you wouldn't have been allowed within a mile of the place."  
Rodolphus laughed sourly, sitting down next to Voldemort.  
"It's nice to know your sense of humour hasn't changed," Rodolphus grumbled, "You need to have a good sense of humour with a face like yours, the ladies won't be going for your looks, let's be honest."  
Voldemort chuckled again, "Is that _really_ the best retort in your arsenal, Rodolphus?"  
Rodolphus' smirk faltered. He straightened up in his chair, obviously frustrated.  
"In any case, I need you to call your fellow Death Eaters here, a meeting is required."  
"What for?" Rodolphus asked, looking obviously confused, "It's not like we're preparing for any raids-"  
"On the contrary, Rodolphus. I think we need to cause a bit of mayhem. "  
Rodolphus sighed, rolling up his sleeve revealing the dark mark burned into the flesh of his arm. He placed the tip of his finger to it and then they waited. Rodolphus squared his shoulders.

There was the thundering of footsteps from upstairs and within seconds the door of the dining room swung open.  
"My Lord!"  
"We weren't expecting you back so soon!"  
"You look so much different, Master."  
"Please, settle down." Voldemort said, raising a large white hand, ushering his followers to sit down, "It is good to know that you have missed my presence, however this is not about me. As far as I am aware, there has been a lull in raids since I left for Albania."  
Silence fell amongst the Death Eaters at once.  
"This is quite disappointing. I expected you all to cope without me."  
Some of the Death Eaters shuffled in their seats, a few of them cleared their throats.  
Voldemort stood up, walking behind the chairs of his followers, "So I have devised a plan. We will attack the Ministry of Magic tomorrow evening."  
The Death Eaters remained quite quiet as he paced behind them. A shiver seemed to run around the table.  
"I also know who I will be sending into the battle," He continued, standing behind Rodolphus' chair, "Dolohov, Mulciber, Avery, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Rowle, Rodolphus, Rabastan," Voldemort smiled, "And Bellatrix Lestrange."  
There was a roar of outrage around the table. Rodolphus cried out, "You're sending her into battle with my child?"  
Voldemort nodded, "She has prestigious skill, you know that, don't you?"  
Rodolphus raised his eyebrow, his eyes wide, "She's never had a real duel before!"  
"I know you're protecting your interests, Rodolphus, but she is the strongest out of all of you. There is no denying that."  
"I'm not havin' a pregnant bird riskin' us gettin' caught," Rabastan piped up, "She could send us to Azkaban if she's not careful."  
Voldemort walked towards Rabastan, "The only cause for your capture will be your own lack of skill, Rabastan. As far as I am aware, Bellatrix is able to duel. She will battle until her child is born."

Some of the Death Eaters appeared very irritated as they filed out of the dining room. He overheard some of their conversations as they walked passed him;  
"Can't believe he'd do that to a pregnant woman."  
"We'll be the laughing stock."  
"Hopefully she can waddle away from danger, eh?"  
The last of the Death Eaters left the room and he was alone again at last. He sighed, sitting down in one of the ornate dining chairs.  
Was he doing the right thing? He could not go back on his word now. She would have to battle. If she was killed… An old unease spread over him. What if she did die?  
He straightened up, shaking the thought away.  
There would be other women; other women he could seduce, other women who would coo at his side, other women who would give themselves willingly to him. There was, after all, Amycus' sister, Alecto, a squat woman with sunken eyes and sloping shoulders. She wasn't as striking as Bellatrix, but she would suffice as a mistress until Bellatrix fell out of love with Rodolphus. If, however, Bellatrix was killed, he would have to continue with the charade.

He smiled to himself, standing up and apparating to a dank alleyway somewhere north of Watford. He looked around. He was sure this is where Amycus had said that he and his sister lived. A plump figure a few yard away caught his eye.  
"Amycus?"  
The figure turned, "My Lord?"  
"We missed you at the meeting, Amycus." Voldemort said, approaching the figure. The squat man smiled.  
"I apologise, My Lord."  
"How is your sister doing?"  
Amycus looked confused, but answered Voldemort nonetheless, "She is doing well, My Lord. Would you like to see her?"  
"That would be welcome."  
He followed Amycus towards a dirty white door with rusty hinges that creaked. He followed him inside the building. It was just as filthy as the exterior, with spiders climbing the walls and a thick layer of dust covering almost every surface. Amycus signalled for Voldemort to follow him up the steep, narrow staircase which lead to his flat.  
After climbing what felt like a hundred steps, they found themselves outside a brown door which was stained with what looked like red wine, but Voldemort wouldn't have hesitated to believe that it was dry blood.  
Amycus pushed the door opened, revealing a cluttered living room, filled with old newspapers stacked in a corner, a badly patched up sofa, and Alecto.  
"The Dark Lord wanted to speak to you, sis."  
Alecto smiled foolishly at Voldemort, "Good evening, My Lord."  
Voldemort grimaced, "I wish to speak to you in private, Alecto."  
Amycus pointed towards an open door next to the dusty fireplace, "The bedroom, My Lord. That should do, shouldn't it?"  
Voldemort nodded, but did not elaborate. He walked in the direction of the bedroom, closely followed by Alecto, who closed the door as they entered the room.

"I am not here to request your service as a Death Eater, though you may join if you wish-"  
"That would be brilliant, My Lord! Thank you! I'd love to be a Death Eater. Sounds dead good!"  
Voldemort snarled. Alecto was trying his patience already.  
"That is not why I am here, Alecto. I actually wish for your company."  
Alecto's beady eyes narrowed, "Company?"  
Voldemort nodded, "My mistress… She isn't really a mistress, more like a—"  
"Fuck buddy?"  
Voldemort smirked, "To put it bluntly, yes," Voldemort's eyes glimmered slightly in the dim light, "She has returned to her husband, and I require some relief tonight."  
Alecto's eyes twinkled, and without warning she dove on Voldemort. He flung his arms in the air, unable to think of anywhere to place them as the stocky woman ravaged his face. She wasn't as pleasant as Bellatrix, who would tease him with a short kiss, and then bite his lip. Alecto was a moist kisser. Rather than tantalising him, she was blunt; to the point. She knew what she wanted.  
She began unbuttoning his robes as he opened his eyes. He grabbed her shoulders, throwing her on the bed. She laughed as the Dark Lord climbed on to the creaking bed beside her, removing his robes.

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**Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a review!  
As always, feel free to PM me with any questions, I'll get back to you as soon as I can.**  
**Have a great day!**


	16. Chapter 16

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he woke up, looking at his surroundings. It dawned on him after a few moments where he was… And what he had done the night before. A shudder went down his spine.

He mumbled to himself, climbing out of the bed, looking at Alecto who was drooling on her pillow. Voldemort curled his lip as he fought to get robes back on. He gazed at the clock above the door. It was five o'clock in the morning. He looked out over the mildewed housing estate, still shrouded in the darkness that came with the early months of the year. He grabbed his wand, and with a faint pop apparated back home.

He was greeted by Bellatrix's cat, Apollo, a rather attractive tabby cat with a white marking that ran from his nose to his chest. He hissed at him, scurrying away to who knew where. Voldemort began walking towards the front door, the path crunching slightly beneath his boots.

It was completely silent inside the house, except for the odd creaking of pipes and floorboards, as he made his way up the stairs. If it was indeed only five o'clock in the morning, there were twelve hours of preparation time before the attack on the ministry that he had so scarcely arranged. He threw off his robes and opened the suitcase which he hadn't bothered to unpack, pulling out a set of deep purple robes. He put them on and rushed back downstairs.

Six hours had passed since he had returned from Alecto's bed. His flesh crawled at the thought of what he had done to that woman, how she had touched him. He never felt like that when he had been with Bellatrix. Then again, Bellatrix was a fan of personal hygiene. Seeing the squalor that Alecto and her brother lived in would dampen anyone's libido.

"My Lord," Rowle said loudly, "Do you think we should go in through the main entrance or the visitor entrance?"

"The visitor's entrance is probably less noticeable. This is about being discreet. We don't want to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves too early."

Rowle smiled, "Of course, My Lord." He lingered for a moment after he wrote it down, "Have you noticed women look even more beautiful when they're pregnant?"

"Yes, they do." Voldemort whispered, looking at Bellatrix. He was relieved that he wasn't the only one who recognised her increased good looks since she fell pregnant. She smiled slightly in his direction as she ate spaghetti and pancakes, "They have strange cravings, though."

"My missus had a funny one when she was expecting our little one, ice cream and steak. Bloody expensive, I'll tell you!" He chuckled to himself as he continued to write down their plan for the evening ahead, "They have a glow when they're pregnant. It's the time when you want to shag them the most, but she's too sensitive to do anything _you_ want." He mimed squeezing his chest. Voldemort mouth twisted into something like a smile as he looked at what Rowle had been writing, snatching the notepad away from him.

"It's not very much, is it?" He said, squinting at the page in front of him.

_Practice duelling techniques before attack. _

_Gain access to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement._

_Enter through visitor entrance (less noticeable)._

Rowle frowned, "Well, no, but—"

Voldemort passed the notebook back to Rowle, "But nothing, Rowle. It needs more detail. You've spent an hour writing three lines. It's not good enough!" He said loudly, slamming his hand on the dining table. Some of the men around him flinched, silencing at once, "I'm not expecting a work of art! It's a plan, for Merlin's sake!"

Rowle shrank in his seat, "Of course, My Lord. I'll try harder next time, My Lord."

"There's not going to be a next time, Rowle." Voldemort snapped, taking the notepad and quill from Rowle. Voldemort felt a nerve twitch in his temple as he looked down at the sheet of parchment at the infuriatingly short "plan". How dare the man even call it a plan? It was nothing more than childish scrawl.

"Master, please-"

Voldemort held up a large white hand, "Leave now, Rowle."

The man did as he was bidden, leaving the Dark Lord's side and sitting further down the table next to Antonin Dolohov.

He heard Bellatrix laughing, her mother's hand on her stomach. The baby had started kicking again. This had happened a few times in the last two hours and every time he would hear the same shrill laughter from both women.

Bellatrix was braver than she liked to admit. Even through all the joy people saw through her smiling and laughing, he could see the pain in her eyes. He could see, as her mother's hand rubbed her stomach, that she was hurting; how she loathed the fact that the father of her child was the man who had attacked her, how that Rodolphus' child would be born into a less than happy marriage. He knew that, despite everything she had said to him, she would never forgive Rodolphus for that. The ugly oaf. He should have killed him before he let him beat him to a pulp, before he had the chance to attack Bella. He had been foolish, immature. He could have destroyed him, but he had fought the urge, allowing the man to take advantage. That was when he was at his weakest. When he allowed idiotic human emotions interfere with what he truly wanted.

His eyes wandered to the wand in his hands. How many men had it broken? How many men had fallen at his hand, this weapon he held? He waved it and the notepad rose into the air and the quill, which he had charmed, began taking down his thoughts.

As he amended Rowle's less than satisfactory notes, the sky outside had grown darker. The grandfather clock in the living room rang five o'clock in the evening. He rose from the table and checked the people in the room. Everyone he needed at the battle was in the room with him.

"I hope you are all prepared for what is ahead, my friends," He announced, "The time has come for you to leave for the Ministry. I wish you the best of luck."

The Death Eaters rose from their seats, filing out of the dining room towards the garden. There were a series of loud pops, and his Death Eaters had finally left for the Ministry.

Voldemort began walking towards the living room. Through all the chaos of an average day in Black Manor, he had never noticed its finer features; the ceiling of the entrance hall had been charmed to look like the sky (much like the ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts), the banisters that curved like serpents up the staircase, the ornately carved doorframes that when one looked close enough, one could see the Black family crest and "Toujours Pur" engraved into the highest point of the archway.

He sat down in the armchair beside the crackling fire that had been lit in the marble hearth. He had rarely seen the fireplace lit. Druella wanted to keep the manor warm, no doubt. It was bitterly cold outside, although it was nearly April.

As much as he had enjoyed his trip to Albania, there was nothing better than sitting in front of a roaring fireplace. He waved his wand and a book flew out of the shelf opposite him. He caught it, reading the title, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. _He stretched, making himself comfortable and then began to read the heavily worn book.

He yawned at page fifteen, which was explaining the breeding laws pertaining to magical creatures and he felt his eyelids beginning to grow heavy. He allowed himself to yawn again and with another blink he fell asleep.

He woke to the sound of hurried footsteps and screaming. He glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight. The fire that had burned in the hearth had died and was mere embers. He felt for the book on his chest, but soon realised that it had been placed on the mahogany end table by his winged armchair. He yawned, covering his mouth as he did so. He stood up, walking away from the living room and towards the screams, which appeared to be coming from the first floor landing.


	17. Chapter 17

**I'm going away on holiday tomorrow so I won't be able to post any new chapters for a week or so. Hope you enjoy this chapter, please leave a review.**

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The screaming shook the first floor landing as he walked up the stairs. The men in front of him were pale faced, wide eyed. There was blood everywhere. It appeared that whoever had been wounded had been wounded very badly. He followed the bloody footprints across the floor, stepping over his distressed army of men. They had been defeated; there was no doubt about that. They had lost the battle at the Ministry. He saw Bellatrix sitting alone on the window ledge, looking outside over the rolling hills of countryside. He did not speak to her, but was relieved that she was not the one who had been hurt. He followed the trail towards a closed-door where he could hear the throat ripping screams that had echoed downstairs. He wrapped his hand around the ornately carved bronze handle and turned it, opening the door.

He walked through the bloodied room, towards the shrieking figure. The man lying on the bed was shaking, blood trickling down his chin. Voldemort's eyes wandered down the bed towards his legs… or rather leg. The man was grasping for his knee, his hands getting covered in the blood that was spurting from his joint. Voldemort could see his thigh bone.

"Nott." Voldemort said softly. Nott stopped screaming abruptly, but continued whimpering in pain. Voldemort sighed deeply.

"My Lord, please! My leg!" He whined, grasping his severed thigh. His blood was staining the cotton sheets. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, his face drained of colour.

Voldemort shook his head, turning to leave the room. Nott wailed, but Voldemort just smirked as he stepped back out on to the landing. He walked across the bloodied rug that covered most of the wood floor and towards Rookwood.

"What happened?" Voldemort asked, staring at the man's wide eyes. His pockmarked face was pale and sweaty. Whatever had happened had scared his Death Eaters so much so that some of them refused to speak.

Rookwood cleared his throat, though his voice quivered as he spoke, "N-Nott was hit by D-D-Dawlish, the Auror. He b-blew his leg clean o-off."

"And the others?" Voldemort whispered.

"No one else was s-seriously injured…" Rookwood breathed shakily and then continued, "Rabastan was knocked out by Alastor Moody, but he was alright. And Dolohov was punched by that new bloke, can't remember his name. Oh, and Bellatrix was hit with a s-stunner on her belly, b-but she seems to be okay."

Voldemort relaxed. Nott was the only casualty. He didn't expect anyone else to be seriously injured in all honesty. They were all younger and more agile. Nott, however, was one of his older followers and although an able duellist, he was becoming slower with age.

"Rookwood, attend to Nott. There are potions in the bathroom that will heal his leg. Though how painless the procedure will be I do not know, I, myself, have never had to grow back half a leg before." Voldemort chuckled to himself, watching Rookwood push himself to his feet. He walked nervously towards the room where Nott was screaming again.

Voldemort looked at his followers that remained on the landing, "I confess myself disappointed. Not one of you has returned unshaken. I am unwilling to believe that I recruited cowards, though that is how it appears." Voldemort snorted angrily, pushing his followers out of his way as he walked towards the staircase, "Return to your chambers, all of you!"

There was a mumbling of "Yes, Master" from his followers who made their ways gingerly to their bedrooms. He could not believe how pathetic they were, how a simple battle could traumatise them so much. His followers were weak, pitiful fools. He started walking down the staircase again, his brain boiling as he returned to the living room, sitting down in the winged armchair where he had sat only a few moments before. He stroked his forehead, breathing deeply. Idiots, cowards. He was ashamed to call them his Death Eaters, his followers. He had not seen one Death Eater who was not whimpering in fear, who was not terrified. He wondered what would petrify a man like that, but surely it was just that they had been ambushed. Though it appeared that each of his followers had returned to the house in satisfactory condition, apart from Nott of course who was being attended to by Rookwood.

"Boggarts." Came a voice from the doorway.

He turned in his chair, facing Bellatrix, who appeared fevered. Her face was pale, though her cheeks were a brilliant red and gleaming with sweat.

"'Boggarts?'" Voldemort retorted, who was infuriated by the woman's insolence. She had been told to return to her chambers, though she insisted on following him. He felt a vein in his temple twitching, he flared his nostrils.

"That's why they were so anxious. The room we went into was filled with boggarts. By the time we escaped the Aurors had been alerted to our presence and we were attacked."

"I appreciate you informing me of what happened, Bellatrix, but I really don't care at the moment." He looked away from her, picking up his book and opening it.

"You mean you don't care about your followers, is that what you're saying? No, I get it. We're nothing but pawns that you use against Dumbledore and the ministry!" Bellatrix shouted, touching her swollen stomach.

Voldemort glared at her, placing his book back down, "How dare you speak to me like that?!"

"Like what? The way you speak to me, and to how many others?" Bellatrix shrieked.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, he rose from the armchair and began walking towards Bellatrix, "I dislike your attitude, girl. I told you to go and you followed me. You throw yourself at me and then you treat me like dirt. I think you're forgetting who I am, Lestrange," Bellatrix shrunk away from him as he stood over her, "I am your master. I can do what I want to you, when I want," He smirked at her, "I am the greatest wizard alive and I will not allow some spoiled _brat_ like you talk to me like I'm a piece of Mudblood filth, do you understand?" His voice was quiet, though he couldn't have been more threatening. Bellatrix face was scarlet. Her mouth opened slightly, as though she was going to argue back but then she moaned in pain. There was a sloshing noise. Bellatrix's hooded eyes widened briefly as they both looked down at the floor. Their feet were covered in a clear, sticky substance.

"What is that?" Voldemort muttered, but he soon realised what it was as Bellatrix cried out. She grasped her stomach, moving slowly towards the couch where she laid down.

"Don't… Please, not now!" She cried, leaning her head against one of the many scatter cushions on the sofa.

For the first time in his life, Voldemort had no idea what to do. He strode quickly out of the room but found himself face to face with Rodolphus Lestrange.

"I heard Bella scream, is she okay?"

Voldemort did not know what to say, walking with Rodolphus back into the living room where Bellatrix was lying quite quietly.

Voldemort looked away from the woman and sat back down in his armchair. Rodolphus knelt beside his wife who cowered at his touch. She mumbled something; Voldemort could not hear what. Rodolphus rushed out of the room. Voldemort began reading his book again, trying to ignore what was going on around him. Moments after Rodolphus left, Druella and Cygnus sped into the room. They lifted Bellatrix and began walking towards the fireplace. Cygnus picked up a fine china vase and sprinkled the contents, which appeared to be soot, into the hearth. The cinders that were dying in the fireplace began to glow and then they grew taller and became ferociously hot. Though they were not the brilliant red flames one would expect. The soot, which Voldemort now realised was floo powder, had turned the flames a vivid emerald-green. Druella turned to Voldemort as Cygnus lifted their daughter into the fireplace and said, "St. Mungo's Hospital." She sighed quietly to herself.

"Rodolphus told us to take Bella to the hospital. She's not due to have the baby for another three months, My Lord." Druella whispered, tears stinging the corners of her eyes, "It will kill her if…" She choked back a sob, and then followed her husband and daughter through the emerald flames to the hospital.


	18. Chapter 18

**Sorry about the little hiatus. When I came back from my holiday I started my new job, so I haven't had as much time as I would like to write. Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter, please review!**

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It may as well have been years they had waited to see a healer. The waiting room was filled with heavily pregnant women accompanied by their partners. The women were shrieking and sobbing in pain as contraction after contraction occurred. The waiting room itself was more like a hallway, with very little seating area and many dark wooden doors. Hospital staff came and went, as though the room was a thoroughfare. This had infuriated Cygnus, who was trying to argue with the less than interested receptionist, a dark-skinned man whose head hardly rose from the newspaper resting on his desk.

"-I don't care! My daughter is in labour!"

"As are many other women, Mr Black. Now if you could take a seat, please?" The receptionist mumbled nonchalantly, licking his thumb and turning the page of his newspaper.

"If you can get Bellatrix a room, I will give you all the money I have!" Cygnus pleaded. He pursed his fingers beneath his chin like a man in prayer.

"Cygnus-" Druella hissed, her eyes wide. She sat beside Bellatrix, holding her hand. Bellatrix groaned again as her womb felt like it was ripping itself apart; another contraction.

"We do not take bribery at this hospital, Mr Black. Now take your seat." The receptionist snapped, looking up for the first time.

Bellatrix gasped in pain, grabbing her mother's hand in her own. She threw her head back and moaned very loudly.

"You can see how much pain she's in. Do something, anything!"

The man at reception sighed to himself but did not respond, eyeing a blond-haired man who entered the room through a pair of white doors.

"Mrs Lestrange?" The man said, taking a pair of latex white gloves out of his robe pocket and pulling them on to his long-fingered hands, "I'm Dr Pritchard."

Bellatrix lifted her head and looked, grimacing at him.

"So your file says you're six months pregnant with your first child." Pritchard glanced at Bellatrix over the brown file in his hand. She sobbed loudly, grasping her swollen stomach, "And it seems that you've gone into labour early."

Druella rolled her eyes, "Isn't that obvious?" She looked over at her husband who mouthed '_Bloody hospital staff_!' behind Pritchard's head. She repressed a smile. Bellatrix groaned again.

"Let's get you into the examination room, Mrs Lestrange. You can bring one of your parents if you wish, not both. I doubt it's a good idea for you to be crowded in your condition."

Cygnus touched his wife's arm, and then took Bellatrix's hand in his. He gasped as she crushed his fingers. Druella pulled a pink handkerchief from inside her robes and blew her nose as she watched Cygnus whimper as his daughter crushed his hand. He walked with Bellatrix and Pritchard to the office on the other side of the waiting room.

The office was pristine, with white walls and dark wooden furniture that was covered in a thin layer of polish. Pritchard helped Bellatrix through the door with her father and then took her over to the high bed which was covered in blue paper towels. She breathed heavily as she rested her head on the foam pillow, lying down. Pritchard went over to the wooden door and closed it quietly.

He gestured for Cygnus to sit down at the mahogany desk. He did as he was bidden, watching the blond man examine his daughter; waving his wand and reading notes being taken by a quill which scribed, apparently of its own accord, on a levitating notepad.

"Hmm…" He grumbled, sitting down and grabbing the notepad as it floated over to the desk, "Your daughter has suffered some severe trauma to her uterus."

Cygnus furrowed his brow, "Is the child…?"

Pritchard looked down at his desk, "The endometrium, the uterus lining, has ruptured. Your daughter is definitely in labour, but whether or not the baby will survive the birth is another matter. We will do all we can, Mr Black," He looked back up at him again.

"Will Bellatrix be alright?" Cygnus' voice quivered slightly. He couldn't bear to imagine losing his oldest daughter.

The blond man smiled, "Bellatrix will be fine. There may be some physical damage to her body, however. We will find out after the baby has been born," Pritchard looked over at Bellatrix who was still crying in pain, "Which judging by the spacing between her contractions should be any minute now." Pritchard stood up, "It's up to you whether you wish to stay with her or not," he began to walk towards Bellatrix, waving his wand again.

* * *

It felt like hours since Cygnus and Bellatrix stepped into Dr Pritchard's office. Maybe it had been. Druella hadn't checked her watch. She sat in the waiting room, rocking on her heels, chewing her fingernails. Her eyes were glazed, her face tear-stained.

"Has she had the baby yet?" A voice came from behind her.

She turned. There stood Rodolphus, his hair dishevelled. He walked around the benches and then sat beside her, "I don't know. They've been in the doctor's office for a while now." Her voice was hoarse.

"_They_?"

Druella nodded, "Cygnus went in with her." She pushed her blonde hair away from her face, "He came out a couple of hours ago." She explained briefly what Cygnus had told her.

Rodolphus raised an eyebrow, but then relaxed as he saw men in green robes walking towards the doctor's office. He caught a glimpse of Bellatrix, whose face was scarlet and shining with sweat.

"Those men that just went in, don't they take the baby to the incubator?" He leapt to his feet before Druella could respond, "I'm a father!"

Druella glowered up at him, "Sit down, Rodolphus. They won't let you go in."

Rodolphus sneered at his mother-in-law and walked towards the office door. He could hear muffled voices, though their words were inaudible.

"I can't hear the baby." Rodolphus muttered, pressing his ear to the door. He could hear a woman sobbing, Bellatrix. He tapped gently on the door. The voices hushed suddenly, though Bellatrix continued to cry.

The door opened.

"You must be Mr Lestrange," the doctor said sternly, "I'm Dr Pritchard."

Rodolphus gulped, looking at Bellatrix who held a tightly wrapped towel in her arm. She looked up at him. Her bottom lip quivered slightly as she fought back the tears that were stinging her eyes.

The doctor sat down on his desk, rubbing his forehead, "I'm very sorry, Mr Lestrange."

Rodolphus furrowed his brow, "What do you—"

"The baby was breeched. If your wife had gone into labour at full term we would have been able to save him. He wasn't strong enough."

"A son?"

The doctor nodded but did not elaborate. Bellatrix held the bundled towel tightly in her arms. Rodolphus looked at the tiny baby… He may as well have been sleeping. He was beautiful. Rodolphus sniffed, fighting back the tears he knew would come.

"Have you named him?" Rodolphus asked, kissing his wife's forehead.

"Draco." Bellatrix whispered, her voice hoarse. She stroked the baby's soft cheek, "His name is Draco."


End file.
